iiSEE^l^"^ 


r  > 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13 


TALE   OF  MECKLENBUEG  LIFE. 


FRITZ    REUTER. 


TRANSLATED  ^KOJA  'tHE  •PL'ATI-DEUTSCH 
By  CHARLES  LEE  LEWES. 

AUTHORIZED  EDITION. 


NEW  YORK : 
LEYPOLDT    &    HOLT. 

1868. 


I 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 


In  presenting  to  the  public  this,  the  first  English 
translation  of  one  of  Renter's  works,  it  may  not  be 
superfluous  to  say  a  few  words  concerning  their 
author. 

Though  his  name  is  unknown  in  England,  in 
Germany  he  is  one  of  the  most  popular  authors  of 
the  day.  His  stories  and  poems  are  written  in  Platt- 
deufsch,  and  are  read  wherever  that  dialect  is  spoken, 
that  is  to  say  throughout  Northern,  or  Lower,  Ger- 
many, —  extending  from  Memel  in  the  extreme 
North  East  to  Aix-la-Chapelle  in  the  South  West,  — 
and  even  the  Germans  of  the  more  southern  and  higher- 
lying  States,  where  Platt-deutsch  is  unknown,  now 
frequently  learn  it  for  the  sole  purpose  of  reading 
Renter's  works. 

The  following  story,  called  in  the  original  "Ut 
de  Franz osentid",  was  published  in  1860,  and  rapidly 

ivi  9537 


VI  TRANSLATOR  S  PREFACE. 

passed  tlirougli  several  editions.  It  is  one  of  a 
series  to  which  Keuter  has  given  the  name  of  "Olle 
Kamellen"  literally  "old  camomile-flowers",  by 
which  he  means  ''old  tales,  old  recollections,  useful 
as  homely  remedies."  It  is  one  of  the  most  popular 
of  his  works,  and  perhaps  also  the  most  translate- 
able.  Hence  the  reason  for  bringing  it  first  before 
the  English  public. 

The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  Stavenhagen,  or 
Stemhagen  as  it  is  called  in  Plattdeutsch ,  Renter's 
native  town.  The  characters  introduced  were  all 
real  people;  and  even  their  names  have  been  retained. 

The  story  opens  at  the  moment  when  the  German 
people  was  at  length  beginning  to  rise  against 
Napoleon,  and  it  gives  a  vivid  picture  of  the  state 
of  feeling  which  then  prevailed  in  Germany  towards 
the  French.  The  Germans  were  in  the  galling  posi- 
tion of  being  forced  to  treat  the  French  as  allies, 
whilst  hating  them  with  an  intense  and  unconquer- 
able hatred.  And  this  hatred,  wide-spread  over  the 
whole  country,  is  shown  in  the  expressions  of  de- 
testation ever  bursting  forth  at  the  mention  of  the 
French  name. 

The  language  in  which  the  story  is  written  is 
closely  allied  to   the  Saxon,    and  has   much    more 


TRANSLATOR  S  PREFACE.  VII 

resemblance  to  English  than  High  German  has;  but 
it  is  nevertheless  a  dialect,  and  bears  the  same  re- 
lation to  the  High  German  as  the  child's  language 
does  to  the  man's;  and  my  aim  has  been,  while 
endeavouring  to  make  the  translation  read  like  an 
English  work,  to  adhere  as  closely  as  possible  to 
the  form  and  simplicity  of  the  original. 

Hampstead,  June  1867. 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Showing  why  Miller  Voss  could  not  be  made  a  bankrupt ,  and  how  he 
helped  the  Amtshauptmann  in  a  great  difficulty. 

I  WAS  baptised,  and  liad  godfathers:  four  of 
them.  And,  if  my  godfathers  were  still  alive,  and 
walked  tlirough  the  streets  with  me,  people  would 
stop  and  say:  "Look,  what  fine  fellows!  you  won't 
see  many  such."  They  were  indeed  godfathers!  And 
one  of  them  was  a  head  taller  than  the  others,  and 
towered  above  them  as  Saul  did  above  his  brethren. 
This  was  the  old  Amtshauptmann  Weber.  He  used 
to  wear  a  well-brushed  blue  coat,  yellowish  trousers, 
and  well-blacked  boots,  and  his  face  was  so  marked 
by  the  small-pox  that  it  looked  as  if  the  Devil  had 
been  threshing  his  peas  on  it,  or  as  if  he  had  sat 
down  upon  his  face  on  a  cane -bottomed  chair.  On 
his  broad  forehead  there  stood  written,  and  in  his 
eyes  too  you  could  read,  "Not  the  fear  of  Man  but 
the  fear  of  God."  And  he  was  the  right  man  in  the 
right  place. 

In  the  Year  'i5.  1 


2  IN   THE   YEAR  '1^. 

About  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  he  might 
be  seen  sitting  in  an  arm-chair  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  whilst  his  wife  fastened  a  napkin  under  his 
chin,  put  the  powder  on  his  hair,  tied  it  behind  and 
twisted^ it  intara  neat  pigtail. 

Wlien  the  old  gentleman  walked  up  and  down 
ufi.tcer  tKe  ^had^'  of  the  chestnut-trees  at  noon,  his 
little  rogue  of  a  pigtail  wagged  merrily,  and  nodded 
over  the  collar  of  his  blue  coat  as  if  it  wanted  to 
say  to  any  one  who  would  listen:  "Yes,  look  old 
fellow!  What  do  you  think  of  me?  I  am  only  the 
tip  of  his  hair,  and  if  I  can  wag  so  comically  out 
here,  you  may  fancy  how  merry  it  must  be  inside 
his  head." 

When  I  took  him  a  message  from  my  father,  and 
managed  to  give  it  straight  off,  he  would  pat  me  on 
the  head,  and  then  say:  "Now,  away  with  you,  boy. 
Off,  like  a  shot!  When  you  pull  the  trigger  the  gun 
mustn't  hang  fire,  but  must  go  off  like  a  flash  of 
lightning.  Eun  to  Mamsell  Westphalen,  and  ask  her 
for  an  apple." 

To  my  father  he  would  say:  "Well,  friend,  what 
do  you  think?  Are  not  you  glad  that  you  have  a 
son,  boys  are  much  better  than  girls*,  girls  are  al- 
ways fretting  and  crying.  Thank  God,  I  have  a  boy 
too,  my  Joe.  —  What  say  you,  eh!" 

My   father  told   my  mother.     "Do   you  know," 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  3 

said  he,  ''what  the  old  Amtshauptmann  says?  Boys 
are  better  than  girls."  Now,  I  was  in  the  room  at 
the  time  and  overheard  this,  and  of  course  1  said  to 
myself:  "My  godfather  is  always  right,  boys  are 
better  than  girls,  and  every  one  should  have  his 
deserts."  So  I  took  the  large  piece  of  plumcake  for 
myself  and  gave  my  sister  the  small  one,  and  thought 
not  a  little  of  myself,  for  I  knew  now  that  I  was  the 
larger  half  of  the  apple.  But  this  was  not  to  last; 
the  tables  were  to  be  turned.  — 

One  day  —  it  was  at  the  time  when  the  rascally 
French  had  just  come  back  from  Russia,  and  every- 
thing was  in  commotion  —  some  one  knocked  at  the 
Herr  Amtshauptmann's  door.  "Come  in,"  cried  the 
old  gentleman,  and  in  came  old  Miller  Voss  of  Gielow, 
ducking  his  head  nearly  down  to  the  ground  by  way 
of  a  bow. 

"Good  afternoon,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,"  said  he. 

"Good  morning.  Miller." 

Now,  though  the  one  said  "good  afternoon"  and 
the  other  said  "good  morning,"  each  was  right  from 
his  own  point  of  view;  for  the  Miller  got  up  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  with  him  it  was  after- 
noon, while  with  the  Amtshauptmann  it  was  still 
early  in  the  morning,  as  he  did  not  rise  till  eleven. 

"What  is  it.  Miller?" 

"Herr  Amtshauptmann,   I've  come  to  you  about 

1* 


4  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

a  weighty  matter.  —  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is:  —  I 
want  to  be  made  a  bankrupt." 

"What,  Miller!" 

"I  want  to  be  made  a  bankrupt,  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann." 

"Hm  —  Hm,"  muttered  the  Amtshauptmann, 
"that's  an  ugly  business."  And  he  paced  up  and 
down  the  room  scratching  his  head.  "How  long 
have  you  been  at  the  Bailiwick  of  Stemhagen?" 

"Tliree  and  thirty  years  come  Midsummer." 

"Hm  —  Hm,"  again  muttered  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann, "and  how  old  are  you.  Miller?" 

"Come  peas -harvest  five -and -sixty,  or  may  be 
six-and-sixty,  for  as  to  our  old  Pastor  Hammer- 
schmidt  he  wasn't  much  given  to  writing,  and  didn't 
trouble  his  head  about  parish  registers,  and  theFrau 
Pastor,  who  made  the  entries  —  I'  faith  she  had  a 
deal  to  do  besides  —  only  attended  to  them  every 
three  years,  so  that  there  might  be  enough  to  make 
it  worth  while;  and  then  some  fine  afternoon  she 
would  go  through  the  village  and  write  down  the 
children's  ages,  but  more  according  to  height  and 
size  than  to  what  they  really  were;  and  my  mother 
always  said  she  had  cut  ofi"  a  year  from  me,  because 
I  was  small  and  weakly.  But  less  than  five-and- 
sixty  I'm  not.     I  am  sure  of  that." 

During  this  speech  the  Amtshauptmann  had  kept 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  5 

walking  up  and  down  the  room,  listening  with  only 
one  ear;  he  now  stood  still  before  the  Miller,  looked 
straight  into  his  eyes,  and  said  sharply:  "Then, 
Miller  Voss,  you're  much  too  old  for  anything  of  the 
kind." 

"How  so,  Herr?"  exclaimed  the  poor  Miller, 
quite  cast  down. 

"Bankruptcy  is  a  hard  matter;  at  your  age  you 
could  not  carry  it  through." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Herr?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  We  are  both  too  old  for  it.  We 
must  leave  such  things  to  younger  people.  What 
do  you  think  folks  would  say  if  I  were  to  get  my- 
self declared  bankrupt?  Why,  they  would  say,  of 
course,  the  old  Amtshauptmann  up  at  the  Schloss 
has  gone  quite  mad!  And,"  added  he,  laying  his 
hand  gently  on  the  Miller's  shoulder,  "they  would 
be  right.  Miller  Voss.     What  say  you,  eh?" 

The  Miller  looked  down  at  the  toes  of  his  boots 
and  scratched  his  head:  "It's  true,  Herr." 

"Tell  me,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  patting  him 
kindly  on  the  shoulder,  "where  does  the  shoe  pinch? 
What  is  troubling  you?" 

"Troubling!  say  you,  Herr  Amtshauptmann," 
shouted  the  Miller,  clapping  his  hand  to  the  side  of 
his  head  as  if  a  wasp  had  stung  him.  "Troubling! 
Torturing,  you  mean.    Torturing!  —  That  Jew!  That 


6  IN  THE  YEAR   '13. 

cursed  Jew!  And  then  the  lawsuit,  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann,  the  cursed  lawsuit!" 

"Look  you,  Miller,  that's  another  of  your  follies, 
entangling  yourself  at  your  age  in  a  lawsuit." 

"True  enough,  Herr;  but  when  I  began  it  I  was 
in  my  prime  and  thought  to  be  able  to  fight  it  out; 
now,  I  see  clear  enough  that  your  lawsuit  has  a 
longer  breath  than  an  honest  Miller." 

"But  I  think  it's  coming  to  an  end  now." 

"Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  and  then  I  shall  be 
hard  up,  for  my  affairs  are  in  a  bad  way.  The 
lawyers  have  muddled  them,  and  as  for  my  uncle, 
old  Joe  Voss,  why  his  son  who  will  soon  get  pos- 
session of  all  is  a  downright  vagabond,  and  they  say 
he's  sworn  a  great  oath  to  oust  me  from  the  Borcherts 
Inn  at  Malchin.  But  I  have  the  right  on  my  side, 
Herr  Amtshauptmann.  And  how  I  got  into  this  law- 
suit I  don't  know  to  this  day,  for  old  Frau  Borcherts 
while  she  was  still  alive  —  she  was  the  aunt  of  my 
mother's  sister's  daughter  —  and  Joe  Voss  —  he  was 
my  cousin " 

"I  know  the  story,"  interrupted  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann, "and  if  you  would  follow  my  advice,  you 
would  make  it  up." 

"But  I  can't,  Herr,  for  Joe  Voss's  rascally  son 
wouldn't  be  satisfied  with  less  than  half  the  money, 
and  if  I  pay  that,   I  shall  be  a  beggar.     No,  Herr 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  7 

Amtshauptmann,  it  may  go  as  it  will,  but  one  thing 
I'm  resolved  on,  I  won't  give  in  though  I  go  to 
prison  for  it.  Is  a  ruffian  like  that,  who  struts  about 
with  his  father's  money  in  his  pocket,  spending  it 
right  and  left,  and  who  doesn't  know  what  it  is  to 
have  to  keep  up  a  house  in  these  hard  times  —  and 
who's  never  had  his  cattle  carried  off  by  those  cursed 
French,  nor  his  horses  stolen  out  of  the  stable,  nor 
his  house  plundered,  —  is  such  a  rascal  as  that,  to 
get  the  better  of  me?  By  your  leave,  Herr,  I  could 
kick  the  fellow." 

"Miller  Voss,  gently,  Miller  Voss,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  "the  lawsuit  will  come  to  an  end  some- 
time or  other.     It  is  going  on." 

"Going,  Herr  Amtshauptmann?  It's  flying,  as  the 
Devil  said  when  he  tied  the  Bible  to  his  whip  and 
swung  it  round  his  head." 

"True,  true.  Miller  Voss;  but  at  present  you're 
not  much  pressed." 

"Pressed?  Why,  I'm  fixed  in  a  vice  —  in  a 
vice,  I  say!  That  Jew,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  that 
thrice  cursed  Jew!" 

"What  Jew  is  it?"  asks  the  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann. And  the  Miller  twirls  his  hat  between  his 
finger  and  thumb,  looks  cautiously  round  to  see  that 
no  one  is  listening,  draws  closer  to  the  old  gentleman, 


8  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

and,  laying  a  finger  on  his  lip,  whispers:  ^'Itzig, 
Herr  Amtshauptmann." 

"Whew!"  said  the  old  Herr.  "How  came  you 
to  be  mixed  up  with  that  fellow?" 

"Herr  Amtshauptmann,  how  came  the  ass  to  have 
long  ears?  Some  go  to  gather  wild  strawberries,  and 
get  stung  by  nettles.  The  sexton  of  Gagelow  thought 
his  wheelbarrow  was  full  of  holy  angels,  and  when 
he  had  got  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  expected  to 
see  them  fly  up  to  heaven,  the  Devil's  grandmother 
was  sitting  in  the  wheelbarrow,  and  she  grinned 
at  him  and  said:  'Neighbour,  we  shall  meet  again!' 
In  my  troubles,  when  the  enemy  had  taken  everything 
I  had,  I  borrowed  two  hundred  thalers  from  him, 
and  for  the  last  two  years  I  have  been  obliged  to 
renew  the  bill  from  term  to  term,  and  the  debt  has 
crept  up  to  five  hundred  thalers,  and  the  day  after 
to-morrow  I  shall  be  forced  to  pay  it." 

"But,  Miller,  did  you  sign?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann." 

"Then  you  must  pay.  What's  written  is  written." 

"But,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  I  thought " 

"It  can't  be  helped.  Miller;  what's  written  is 
written." 

"But  the  Jew?  ...." 

"Miller,  what's  written  is  written." 

"Then,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  what  shall  I  do?" 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  9 

The  old  gentleman  began  again  to  walk  back- 
wards and  forwards  in  the  room,  tapping  his  fore- 
head. At  last  he  stopped,  looked  earnestly  in  the 
Miller's  face,  and  said:  ''Miller,  young  people  get 
out  of  such  difficulties  better  than  old  ones;  send 
me  one  of  your  boys." 

The  old  Miller  looked  once  more  at  the  toes  of 
his  boots,  and  then  turning  his  face  away,  said  in  a 
tone  which  went  straight  to  the  old  Amtshauptmann's 
heart:  "Sir,  whom  shall  I  send?  My  Joe  was  ground 
to  death  in  the  mill,  and  Karl  was  carried  off  to 
Russia  by  the  French  last  year,  and  he's  not  come 
back." 

"Miller,"  replied  the  old  Amtshauptmann  patting 
him  on  the  back,  "have  you  then  no  children  at  all?" 

"I  have,"  said  he  wiping  a  tear  from  his  eye, 
"a  little  girl  left." 

"  Well,  Miller,  I  am  not  particularly  fond  of  girls 
myself,  they  are  always  fretting  and  crying." 

"That's  true,  sir,  they  are  always  fretting  and 
crying." 

"And  they  can  be  of  no  use  in  a  matter  like  this, 
Miller." 

"But  what  will  happen  to  me  then?" 

"The  Jew  will  put  in  an  execution,  and  will 
take  away  everything." 

"Well,   Herr  Amtshauptmann,   the  French  have 


10  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

done  that  twice  already,  so  the  Jew  may  as  well  try  it 
now.  At  any  rate  he  will  leave  the  millstone  behind. 
—  And  you  think  I'm  too  old  to  be  made  bankrupt?'* 

"Yes,  Miller,  I  fear  so." 

"Well,  then,  good  day,  Herr  Amtshauptmann." 
And  so  saying  he  went  away. 

The  old  gentleman  stands  still  a  while  and  looks 
after  the  Miller  as  he  goes  across  the  courtyard  of 
the  Schloss,  and  says  to  himself:  "It's  hard  for  one 
old  man  to  see  another  gradually  going  to  ruin 
through  the  bad  times  and  bad  people.  But  who 
can  help  him?  .  .  .  The  only  thing  is  to  give  him 
time.  —  Five  hundred  thalers!!  Who  in  these  days 
can  pay  down  five  hundred  thalers?  .  .  .  Take  away 
old  Koggenbom  of  Scharfzow,  and  I  think  you  might 
set  the  whole  bailiwick  of  Stemhagen,  town  and  all, 
on  its  head,  and  no  ^ve  hundred  thalers  would  fall 
out.  .  .  .  And  Eoggenbom  won't  do  it.  .  .  .  Possibly 
at  Easter  it  might  be  done;  but  the  Jew  will  not 
wait  as  long  as  that.  —  Yes,  yes,  they  are  hard 
times  for  everybody." 

But  while  he  thus  stood  and  looked  out  of  the 
window,  the  courtyard  became  full  of  life,  and  seven 
French  Chasseurs  rode  in  at  the  gate.  One  of  them 
got  down,  and  fastened  his  horse  to  the  door  of 
Mamsell  Westphalen's  hen-house,  and  went  straight 
into  the  Amtshauptmann's  room,  and  began  swearing 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  ll 

and  gesticulating  at  him,  while  the  old  gentleman 
remained  standing,  and  stared  at  him.  But  as  it 
grew  more  serious,  and  the  Frenchman  began  to 
draw  his  sword,  the  Amtshauptmann  stepped  towards 
the  bell  and  called  for  his  factotum  Fritz  Sahlmann, 
who  used  to  run  his  errands  for  him,  and  "Fritz," 
said  he,  ''run  down  to  the  Herr  Burmeister*  and  see 
if  he  cannot  come  up  here  a  little  while,  for  I  have 
come  to  the  end  of  my  Latin." 

And  Fritz  Sahlmann  now  comes  down  to  my 
father  and  says:  "Herr  Burmeister,  come  quickly  to 
the  Amtshauptmann's  help,  or,  by  my  life,  things 
will  go  badly." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  asks  my  father. 

"There  are  six  rascally  French  Chasseurs  in  the 
courtyard  at  the  Schloss,  —  and  the  Captain  of  them,  — 
he  is  in  with  the  Herr,  —  and  has  forgotten  his  man- 
ners, —  and  has  drawn  his  sword,  and  is  brandishing 
it  before  the  eyes  of  the  Herr,  and  the  Herr  stands 
fixed  to  the  spot,  and  doesn't  move  an  inch;  for  he 
knows  about  as  much  of  French  as  the  cow  does  of 
Sunday." 

"The  devil!"  said  my  father  and  jumped  up,  for 
he  was  a  quick,  determined  man,  and  did  not  know 
what  fear  meant. 

*  The  Burmeister  is  the  chief  magistrate  or  mayor  of  a  town,  while 
the  Amtshauptmann  is  the  chief  magistrate  of  a  bailiwick  or  whole 
district. 


12  IN  THE  YEAR  'lo. 

When  he  entered  the  room,  the  Frenchman  was 
rushing  about  like  a  wild  beast,  and  the  words  came 
sputtering  out  of  his  mouth  like  the  beer  from  a 
barrel  without  a  bung.  The  Amtshauptmann  was 
standing  quite  still,  and  had  his  French  pocket  dic- 
tionary in  his  hand,  and  whenever  he  caught  a  word 
the  Frenchman  said,  he  turned  over  the  leaves  to 
see  what  the  dictionary  made  of  it,  and  when  my 
father  came  in,  he  asked:  "My  friend,  what  does 
the  fellow  want?  Eh!  .  .  .  Ask  the  fellow  what  he 
wants." 

My  father  thereupon  began  to  speak  to  tlie  French- 
man, but  he  was  so  loud  and  vehement,  shouted  and 
gesticulated  so  much,  that  the  old  Amtshauptmann 
asked:  "Wliat  is  he  so  excited  for,  friend?"  Well, 
at  last  my  father  got  out  of  the  Frenchman  what 
it  was  he  wanted:  —  ''fifteen  fat  oxen,  and  a  load 
of  corn,  and  seven  hundred  ells  of  green  cloth,  and  a 
hundred  louisd'ors;"  —  and  a  great  deal  "doo  vang," 
(as  my  father  told  the  Amtshauptmann)  for  himself, 
and  his  men  besides.  "My  friend,"  then  said  the 
old  Herr,  "tell  the  fellow  he  is  a  scound  .  .  .  ." 

"Stop!"  cried  my  father,  "don't  say  that  word, 
Herr  Amtshauptmann,  he  will  often  have  heard  it 
lately,  and  maybe  he  understands  it.  No,  I  advise 
that  we  should  give  him  plenty  'doo  vang'  now,  it 
will  be  time  enough  to  think  of  the  rest  afterwards." 


IN  THE   YEAR   '13.  13 

And  the  Herr  Aintsliauptmann  agreed,  and  ordered 
Fritz  Sahlmann  to  get  glasses  and  wine  from  Mamsell 
Westphalen,  "but  not  the  best." 

Well*  the  wine  comes,  and  my  father  fills  the 
Frenchman's  glass  and  the  Frenchman  fills  my 
father's,  and  they  drink  and  fill  alternately,  and  my 
father  soon  says:  "Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  you  must 
sit  down  too  and  help  me,  for  this  fellow  is  a  cask 
without  a  bottom." 

"My  friend,"  answered  the  Amtshauptmann,  "I 
am  an  old  man  and  the  chief  justiciary  in  his  Grace's 
bailiwick  of  Stemhagen ;  it  is  not  fitting  that  I  should 
sit  and  drink  with  this  fellow." 

"Yes,"  said  my  father,  "but  Necessity  knows  no 
law,  and  besides,  this  is  for  our  country." 

And  so  the  old  Herr  sat  down  and  did  his  best. 
But  after  some  time  my  father  said:  "Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann, the  fellow  is  too  many  for  us*,  what  a 
mercy  it  would  be  if  we  could  get  hold  of  some  one 
with  a  strong  head."  And  as  he  said  this,  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  door.     "Come  in." 

"Good  day,"  says  old  Miller  Voss  of  Gielow, 
coming  in,  "good  day,  Herr  Amtshauptmann." 

"Good  day.  Miller,  what  is  the  matter  now?" 

"  0 !  Herr,  I  have  come  again  about  my  lawsuit." 

"There's  no  more  time  for  that  to-day,  you  see 
the  position  we  are  in." 


14  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

But  my  father  cried  out:  "Voss,  come  here,  and 
do  a  Christian  deed.  Just  seat  yourself  by  this 
Frenchman  and  drink  him  down."  Miller  Voss 
looked  first  at  my  father  and  then  at  the  Amts- 
hauptmann,  and  thought  to  himself:  "I've  never 
been  at  a  session  like  this  before;"  but  never- 
theless he  soon  found  himself  at  home  in  it. 

My  father  now  goes  to  the  Amtshauptmann,  and 
says:  "Herr  Amtshauptmann,  this  is  our  man;  he  will 
finish  the  fellow,  I  know  him." 

"Good,"  said  the  old  Herr,  "but  how  are  we  to 
get  rid  of  the  six  fellows  out  there  in  the  court- 
yard?" 

"They  are  but  a  band  of  ruffians  and  marauders," 
replied  my  father,  "only  let  me  do  as  I  like,  and  I 
will  soon  get  rid  of  tliem,"  and  he  called  Fritz  Sahl- 
mann  and  said:  "Fritz,  my  lad,  go  down  through 
the  Schloss-garden ,  —  mind  no  one  sees  you,  — 
and  run  to  Droz  the  watchmaker;  he  is  to  put  on 
his  uniform  and  his  black  leggings  and  bearskin 
and  sword  and  gun,  and  slip  across  the  garden 
through  the  little  green  gate  to  the  corner  window, 
and  then  cough." 

Now  as  concerns  Droz  the  watchmaker,  he  was 
by  birth  a  ISTeufchatelois ;  he  had  served  under  many 
flags,  amongst  them  the  French,  and  at  last  had 
come  to  a  halt  in  my  native  town,   where  he  had 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  15 

married  a  widow  and  settled.  He  had  hung  up  his 
French  uniform,  and  in  the  evening  twilight  when 
it  was  too  dark  to  see  to  mend  watches,  he  used  to 
put  it  on  and  strut  up  and  down  his  little  room,  but 
with  his  head  bare,  as  the  ceiling  was  too  low  for 
him  to  wear  his  bearskin.  And  then  he  would  talk 
about  "la  grande  nation"  and  "le  grand  Empereur" 
and  command  the  division:  Eight  wheel:  Left  wheel: 
Right  about  face:  till  his  wife  and  children  crept 
behind  the  bed  for  fear.  But  he  was  a  good  man 
and  would  not  hurt  a  fly,  and  the  next  day  "la 
grande  nation"  would  be  safe  in  the  cupboard,  and 
he  njending  away  at  his  watches  and  eating  Mecklen- 
burg dumplings  dipped  in  the  fat  of  Mecklenburg 
bacon. 

Well,  while  the  watchmaker  was  buttoning  on 
his  leggings  and  putting  on  his  bearskin.  Miller  Voss 
sat  drinking  with  the  Frenchman,  both  working  well 
at  the  Amtshauptmann's  red  wine,  and  the  French- 
man clinked  glasses  with  the  Miller  and  said:  "A 
vous!"  and  the  Miller  then  took  his  glass,  drank  and 
said:  "Pooh,  pooh!"  and  then  the  Miller  clinked 
glasses  with  the  Frenchman,  and  the  Frenchman 
thanked  him  and  said:  "Serviteur,"  and  then  the 
Miller  drank  again  and  said:  "Rasc'lly  cur!"  And 
in  this  way  they  went  on  drinking  and  talking 
French  together. 


16  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

Gradually  they  became  more  and  more  friendly, 
and  the  Frenchman  put  his  sword  in  its  sheath,  and 
before  very  long  they  were  in  each  other's  arms.  At 
this  moment  a  cough  was  heard  under  the  corner 
window,  and  my  father  stole  out  and  gave  the  watch- 
maker directions  what  he  was  to  do.  But  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann  kept  walking  up  and  down,  wonder- 
ing what  the  Duke  would  say  to  all  this  if  he  were 
to  see  it,  and  said  to  the  Miller:  "Miller,  don't  give 
in,  I  will  not  forget  you."  And  the  Miller  did  not 
give  in,  but  drank  sturdily  on. 

Meanwhile  the  watchmaker  went  stealthily  back 
again  through  the  Schloss-garden,  and  when  he' came 
on  to  the  road  leading  up  to  the  Schloss,  he  slapped 
himself  on  the  breast  and  drew  himself  up  to  his 
full  height,  for  he  was  now  "grande  nation"  again, 
and  he  marched  in  at  the  Schloss-gate  in  military 
style  which  suited  him  well,  for  he  was  a  fine- 
looking  fellow.  The  six  Chasseurs  who  were  stand- 
ing by  their  horses,  looked  at  him  and  whispered 
together,  and  one  of  them  went  after  him  and  de- 
manded whence  he  came  and  whither  he  was  going. 
But  Droz  looked  scornfully  over  his  shoulder  at  him 
and  answered  him  sharply  and  shortly  in  French 
that  he  was  the  quartermaster  of  the  seventy-third 
Kegiment,  and  that  it  would  be  up  from  Malchin  in 
half-an-hour,    and    he    must    first    of   all   speak    to 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  ^  17 

"Monsieur  le  Baillif."  The  Chasseur  turned  pale, 
and  as  Droz  began  to  talk  about  marauders  and  re- 
lated how  his  Captain  had  had  a  couple  shot  the 
day  before,  first  one  and  then  another  jumped  on  to 
his  horse,  and  although  a  few  did  chatter  together 
for  a  moment  or  two  and  pointed  to  the  Schloss,  yet 
none  of  them  felt  inclined  to  stay  any  longer,  and 
almost  before  you  could  lift  your  finger,  the  court- 
yard was  empty.  And  we  boys  stood  at  the  Branden- 
burg gate  and  watched  the  six  French  Chasseurs  as 
they  floundered  about  in  the  mud,  for  it  was  just 
the  season  for  the  Mecklenburg  roads,  being  the 
spring  and  the  thaw  having  just  set  in. 


In  the  Year  'io. 


18  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER  II. 

What  Mamsell  Westphalen  and  the  watchmaker  talked  about;  why 
Friedrich  wanted  to  cut  the  buttons  off  the  Frenchman's  trousers ; 
how  he  put  him  to  bed  in  the  Stemhagen  Wood ;  and  why  Fieka 
did  not  accept  the  Malchin  Merchant, 


As  soon  as  the  courtyard  was  clear,  the  watch- 
maker marched  with  sword  and  gun  into  Mamsell 
Westphalen's  pantry;  and  Mamsell  Westphalen  dried 
her  eyes  and  said:  ^^Herr  Droi,  you  are  an  angel  of 
deliverance."  She  always  called  him  Droi  instead 
of  Droz  because  she  thought  Droi  was  better  French 
and  that  people  did  not  pronounce  it  properly.  — 
The  angel  of  deliverance  now  put  his  musket  down 
beside  the  soap-tub,  hung  up  his  sword  on  the  meat 
hook,  threw  his  bearskin  on  a  chair,  and  seated 
himself  on  the  table*,  he  then  drew  forth  a  checked 
handkerchief,  laid  it  on  his  knees  and  folded  it 
neatly,  passed  it  twice  slowly  under  his  nose,  and 
then  pulled  out  his  large  round  snufP  box  and 
offered  it  to  Mamsell  Westphalen  saying:  "Plait  i'?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen,  "itplatee's 
me;  for,  Herr  Droi,  my  eyes  are  very  bad,  and  they 
have  been  getting  weaker  ever  since  last  autumn,  — ^ 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  19 

it  was  then  I  had  my  great  illness,  and  the  doctors 
gave  it  a  long  name,  but,  Herr  Droi,  I  said  it  was 
nothing  but  the  common  hay-fever,  and  I  hold  to 
that  still." 

So  saying  she  set  before  Herr  Droi  a  delicious 
roast  duck  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  of  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann's  best,  and  made  a  little  bobbing  curtsey,  and 
said  in  her  turn:  "Platee?'' 

Well,  it  "plaiti'd"  the  watchmaker  very  much, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  an  angel  of 
deliverance,  and  Mamsell  Westphalen's  pantry  a 
paradise  after  his  dumplings  and  bacon;  and  when 
he  was  at  his  second  bottle,  he  talked  a  great  deal 
about  the  "  vin  de  Vaud  "  and  "ze  beauteeful  Suisse." 
"Ah!"  said  he,  "je  suis  fier  de  mon  pays,  it  must 
zat  you  come  one  time  to  my  pays,  zere  zing  ze 
birds  and  zere  murmurent  ze  brooks." 

Darkness  had  gradually  crept  upon  them,  when 
all  on  a  sudden  Fritz  Sahlmann  burst  into  the  room 
and  said:  "Well,  here's  a  pretty  business!  The  Herr 
Amtshauptmann  is  striding  up  and  down  the  garden 
without  any  hat  on,  talking  to  himself;  the  Herr 
Burmeister  has  made  ojff  without  saying  a  word  to 
anybody;  Miller  Voss's  Friedrich  has  been  standing 
at  the  gate  for  the  last  hour  swearing  away  at  the 
*  cursed  patriots'  and  the  'gallowsbird  Dumouriez,' 
and  the  Miller  is  holding  his  fist  in  the  Frenchman's 

2* 


20  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

face,  and  asking  what  the  French  have  done  with 
the  four  horses  and  six  oxen  which  theyrobhed  him 
of;  and  the  Frenchman  is  sitting  there  and  not 
moving  an  inch,  only  rolling  his  eyes  about." 

"Fritz  Sahlmann,"  asked  Mamsell  Westphalen, 
"doesn't  he  move  at  all?" 

"No,  Mamsell." 

"I  know  you're  a  bit  of  a  coward,  and  that  you 
don't  always  speak  the  truth.  Tell  me,  Fritz,  on 
your  conscience,  are  you  sure  that  he  does  not 
move?" 

"No,  Mamsell,  he  does  not  move  or  stir  a  bit." 

"Well  then,  Herr  Droi,  let  us  go  upstairs;  we 
will  soon  set  him  to  the  right  about;  but  take  some 
of  your  instruments  for  cutting  and  stabbing  with 
you ,  and  if  you  see  he  is  going  to  do  me  any  harm, 
you  must  protect  me.  And  you,  Fritz  Sahlmann, 
run  to  the  Miller's  Friedrich  and  tell  him  that  he 
is  to  put  up  his  horses  and  come  in  here,  for  better 
is  better,  and  *what  one  can  do  easily  won't  be  diffi- 
cult for  two.' " 

So  Friedrich  now  comes  in,  and  gets  a  huge 
dram,  and  shakes  himself,  as  is  the  custom  after  a 
good  draught,  and  the  procession  moves  forward 
towards  the  Amtshauptmann's  room:  Friedrich  in 
front,  then  Mamsell  Westphalen,  who  had  taken  the 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  21 

watchmaker's  arm,  and  finally  Fritz  Sahlmann  in 
the  rear. 

As  they  entered  the  room,  the  Miller  sat  at 
the  table,  a  broad  grin  on  his  round  face,  and 
before  him  two  glasses  which  he  clinked  together, 
first  the  one  against  the  other,  and  then  the 
other  against  the  one,  drinking  for  himself  and 
the  Frenchman  too.  He  had  taken  off  his  coat,  the 
work  having  made  him  warm.  On  his  head  he  had 
got  the  Frenchman's  helmet  with  the  long  horse-hair 
plume;  and  round  his  huge  body,  as  well  as  it  would 
go,  the  Frenchman's  sword.  The  latter  lay  stretched 
on  the  sofa,  arrayed  in  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann's 
white  cotton  nightcap  and  flowered  dressing-gown; 
and  the  rogue  of  a  Miller  had  given  him,  instead  of 
his  sword,  a  long  quill  pen,  which  he  silently  waved 
about  in  the  air,  for  he  could  not  speak  a  word. 

When  Mamsell  Westphalen  got  to  the  door  and 
beheld  this  spectacle,  she  set  her  arms  a-kimbo,  as 
every  right-thinking  elderly  person  would  naturally 
do  under  such  circumstances,  and  asked:  "Miller 
Voss,  what  is  this?  What  do  you  call  this?  What 
do  you  mean  by  this?" 

The  Miller  tried  to  answer,  but  burst  out  laugh- 
ing, and  could  with  difficulty  and  only  after  some 
time,  bring  out,  "Fun." 

"What!"   exclaimed    Mamsell  Westphalen.     "Is 


22  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

that  a  proper  answer  for  a  man  with  wife  and 
children?  Do  you  call  that  respect  for  your  su- 
periors, to  play  such  tricks  in  the  Amtshauptmann's 
study?  Herr  Droi,  follow  me!"  So  saying,  she 
went  over  to  where  the  Frenchman  lay,  snatched 
the  nightcap  from  his  head,  gave  him  a  couple  of 
boxes  on  the  ear,  said  merely:  "The  poor  inno- 
cent nightcap!"  and,  "You  pig!"  and  turned  round 
and  cried  out  to  Friedrich:  "Friedrich,  come  here 
and  help  me  take  off  the  Herr's  dressing-gown  from 
this  fellow,  nd  you,  Herr  Droi  —  for  you  will 
understand  such  things  —  take  the  soup- dish  off  that 
stupid  Miller's  head,  and  unbuckle  his  sword." 

When  that  was  done,  she  said:  "Fritz  Sahlmann, 
you  chatterbox,  mind  you  don't  say  a  word  to  the 
Herr  Amtshauptmann  about  what  has  happened  to 
his  things,  for  he  would  be  sure  to  bum  them,  and 
how  could  the  innocent  nightcap  and  dressing-gown 
help  it  if  grown-up  men  will  behave  like  school- 
boys?" As  she  said  this,  she  looked  sharply  at 
the  grinning  Miller,  replaced  the  cork  in  the  half- 
finished  bottle,  put  her  arms  once  more  a-kimbo, 
and  said:  "Well,  what's  to  be  done  now?" 

"I  know,"  cried  Friedrich;  and  he  pulled  his 
clasp-knife  out  of  his  pocket,  and  opened  it  with  a 
snap,  then  walked  up  to  the  Frenchman,  tore  open 
his   coat,   and   was  proceeding  to   insert   the  knife. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  23 


f       when  Mamsell  Westphalen  rushed  in  between  them, 
crying: 

"Good  heavens,  Friedrich!      Is  the  devil  tempt- 

|t        ing  you?     Surely  you  would  not  murder  him?" 

"Diable,"  said  Herr  Droi,  and  caught  hold  of 
Friedrich's  arm;  and  Fritz  Sahlmann  threw  up 
the  window  and  shouted:  "Herr  Amtshauptmann, 
Herr  Amtshauptmann,  it's  beginning  now."  Smack ! 
He  got  a  blow  on  the  mouth.  It  seemed,  however, 
to  come  quite  naturally  to  him,  for  Mamsell  West- 
phalen gave  him  daily  three  —  more  or  less. 

Friedrich  remained  where  he  was,  and  said 
coolly:  "What  do  you  mean?  Do  you  think  I'm 
a  cannibal?  I  was  only  going  to  cut  the  buttons 
off  his  trousers.  We  used  always  to  do  it  when 
we  took  any  prisoners  when  I  served  in  Holland 
under  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  against  the  cursed 
patriots  and  the  gallowsbird  Dumouriez  in  the  year 
'90;"  and,  turning  to  Mamsell  Westphalen,  he  added 
"You  see,  Mamsell,  then  they  can't  escape,  for  if 
they  tried,  their  trousers  would  fall  down  over  their 
knees." 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Friedrich, 
for  saying  such  a  thing.  What  have  I  got  to  do 
with  the  Frenchman's  trousers?  Our  business  is  to 
think  what  we  are  to  do  with  this  fellow!" 

"Do?     Do,  indeed?"  cried  Miller  Voss,  "What 


24  IN  THE  YEAR  'l3. 

do  you  mean?  Where  I  go,  he  goes;  and  we  have 
sworn  eternal  friendship;  and  he's  a  jolly  French- 
man, and  I'm  a  jolly  Mecklenburger,  and  whoever 
wants  to  know  about  it,  let  him  come  here."  And 
he  looked  at  them  all,  one  after  another.  As 
nobody  said  anything,  he  clapped  the  Frenchman 
on  the  shoulder  and  said:  "Brother,  you  shall  go 
with  me.'' 

"That  will  be  best,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen; 
"then  we  shall  be  rid  of  both  of  them.  Herr  Droi, 
take  hold  of  him."  And  the  one  "grande  nation" 
took  the  other  "grande  nation's"  legs,  and  Fried- 
rich  took  his  head;  Fritz  Sahlmann  carried  the  light, 
Mamsell  Westphalen  commanded  the  whole,  and  the 
Miller  stumbled  along  after  her. 

"Now,"  said  Friedrich,  "in  with  him  into  the 
waggon  under  the  straw!  That's  it.  Now  lie  there! 
Fritz  Sahlmann,  put  the  horses  to.  And  you,  Herr 
Droz,  help  me  up  with  the  Miller;  but  take  care  he 
does  not  lose  his  balance,  for  I  know  him,  and  he 
slips  over  if  you're  not  careful." 

When  the  Miller  was  seated,  Friedrich  asked: 
"Well,  is  everything  on  board?" 

"Everything,"  replied  Mamsell  Westphalen. 

"Well  then,  gee-up,"  said  Friedrich.  But 
scarcely  had  they  gone  a  couple  of  paces  when  the 
watchmaker  cried  out,  "Halte,  halte,  Frederic!  you 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  25 

have  forget  ze  camerade's  horse,  it  stop  in  ze  logis 
for  ze  leetle  poules." 

"Yes,"  said  Fritz  Sahlmann;  "it's  standing  in 
the  hen-house." 

"Well,  then,  wo!"  cried  Friedrich-,  "fasten  it 
to  the  tail  of  the  waggon." 

They  set  about  doing  so;  but  before  it  was  done, 
the  old  Aratshauptmann  came  back  from  his  walk 
in  the  garden,  and  asked  what  the  matter  was. 
"Oh!  nothing,  nothing!"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen *, 
"only  Miller  Voss  has  invited  the  Frenchman  to  go 
home  with  him  and  spend  the  night  up  at  the  Gie- 
low  Mill." 

"It's  all  right  then,"  said  the  old  Ilerr.  "Good- 
bye, Miller.     I  shall  not  forget  you." 

The  Miller  muttered  something  in  his  teeth  about 
fine  weather,  and  Mamsell  Westphalen  whispered  to 
Fritz  Sahlmann  to  run  up  in  advance  and  take  the 
Frenchman's  helmet  and  sword  out  of  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann's  room,  so  that  he  should  not  see 
them.  "Take  them  into  my  room,"  said  she,  "and 
put  them  behind  my  bed."  Friedrich  now  applied 
his  whip  to  the  horses,  and  drove  down  the  hill 
into  the  Malchin  road,  and  said  to  himself:  "  This' 11 
be  the  proof;  if  the  Miller  remains  sitting  on  his 
sack  with  all  this  jolting,   he  will   be   able   to   get 


26  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

down  from  the  waggon  alone  to-night."  But  when 
they  had  got  as  far  as  the  Barns,  and  he  turned 
round  to  look,  the  Miller  lay  between  the  foremost 
and  the  hindmost  sack,  and  Friedrich  thought:  "He 
won't  get  down  without  help  to-night,  that's  clear." 
And  he  threw  a  couple  of  sacks  over  the  Miller  to 
prevent  his  getting  cold. 

And  so  they  passed  through  the  Barns,  and  the 
horses  trotted  along  at  an  even  pace  through  the 
heavy  roads  and  the  dark  night;  and  all  kinds  of 
thoughts  came  into  Friedrich's  head.  First  of  all, 
he  thought  of  the  Miller's  wife,  and  what  she  had 
said  once  before  when  the  Miller  had  come  home  in 
this  state*,  but  then  he  had  been  alone  —  what  would 
she  say  to-night  when  there  were  two  of  them?  and 
what  would  the  Miller's  daughter,  Fieka,  say  to  it? 
and  he  shook  his  head:  ''It  can't  go  well  anyhow." 
And  then  he  remembered  how  it  was  just  about  this 
time  of  year  and  in  such  a  night  that  he  had  run 
away  from  the  Prussians  at  Prenzlow,  ten  years 
before,  and  how  until  he  got  to  Stemhagen  he  had 
been  obliged  to  sleep  in  the  open  air,  and  had 
covered  himself  over  with  hawthorn  boughs.  And 
then,  too,  he  recollected  —  and  as  the  remembrance 
came  back  upon  him  he  gnashed  his  teeth  —  the 
time  when  he  was  in  France  under  the  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  and  had  no  clothes  and  nothing  inside 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  27 

him  except  craving  hunger,  and  how  the  French  had 
hunted  and  pursued  them,  and  how  many  of  his 
comrades  had  fallen  dead  by  the  roadside,  amongst 
them  his  best  friend,  Kristian  Kriiger,  and  how 
the  people  had  had  no  pity  for  him.  *'And  my 
two  beautiful  bays,"  he  added  to  himself,  "which 
they  took  away  from  me ,  and  here  I  must  drive  two 
lame  old  broken- winded  jades.  It's  a  shame  they 
should  be  tormented  drawing  a  harpy  of  a  marauder 
along  these  heavy  roads  —  a  fellow  who's  not  a 
real  soldier,  even.  Cursed  patriots!  Gallowsbird 
Dumouriez!"  These  were  his  oaths  when  he  was 
angry.  "Wo!"  he  cried,  jumped  down  from  the 
waggon,  went  round  to  the  back  of  it,  raised  up 
the  straw,  drew  the  Frenchman  half  out  by  his  leg, 
then  laid  him  across  his  shoulders,  carried  him  into 
the  Stemhagen  Wood,  and  laid  him  down  under  a 
beech-tree.  "Yes,"  said  he,  as  the  Frenchman 
moved  rather  uneasily,  "it's  rather  damp,  no  doubt, 
but  then  you're  damp  inside;  so  why  shouldn't  you 
be  damp  outside  too?"  And  he  looked  up  at  the 
sky  and  said,  "For  the  end  of  February  it's  a  nice 
warm  night,  and  if  the  cuckoo  isn't  singing  just 
now,  I  heard  him  singing  in  this  beech-tree  last 
summer,  and  he'll  sing  here  again  this  year,  please 
God."  And,  on  the  Frenchman  giving  a  slight 
shudder  as  though  he  were  cold,  he   added;  "It's  a 


28  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

bit  cool,  camerade,  isn't  it?  I  might  cover  you 
with  a  good  three  foot  of  clay  and  nobody  be  the 
wiser,  but  I'll  show  you  that  I  have  a  Christian 
heart."  With  that  he  went  to  the  waggon,  fetched 
a  couple  of  armfuls  of  straw,  and  threw  it  over  the 
Frenchman  and  said:  "Now  adieu!  I  can't  take 
you  with  me;  for  why  should  the  Miller's  wife  and 
Fieka  be  troubled  with  you?"  —  climbed  into  the 
waggon  again  and  drove  off. 

When  they  were  near  the  mill,  he  woke  up  the 
Miller  and  said:  "Miller,  sit  up  straight  on  the 
sack.  I'll  help  you  down  again."  Voss  sat  up  and 
said:  "Thank  you,  Herr  Amtshauptmann ;"  and 
stared  wildly  about  to  see  where  he  was,  and  asked 
whose  horse  that  was  running  after  the  waggon. 
When  he  had  a  little  recovered  his  senses,  he  put 
his  hand  under  the  straw  and  asked:  "Friedrich, 
Where's  the  Frenchman?"  "Yes,  where  is  he?" 
answered  Friedrich;  and  drew  up  before  the  door, 
and  jumped  down,  and  helped  the  Miller  off  before 
the  women  came  out  with  a  light.  The  Miller 
scrambled  up  the  steps,  and  his  wife  came  out  to 
meet  him,  "Well,  father,  how  has  it  gone?"  she 
asked.  The  Miller  stumbled  over  the  doorsill  into 
the  room,  laid  hat  and  gloves  on  the  table,  and 
walked  up  and  down  the  room  a  couple  of  times, 
fixing  his  eyes  on  the  cracks  of  the  floor  to  steady 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  29 

himself,  and  at  last  brought  out  the  words:  "It's 
very  hard  work." 

"So  I  see,"  said  his  wife.  Fieka  sat  at  the 
other  side  of  the  table  mending  clothes. 

And  the  Miller  walked  up  and  down  again 
proudly  and  asked:  "Don't  you  see  anything  re- 
markable about  me  to-night?" 

"Indeed  I  do,"  replied  his  wife;  "you  have  been 
sitting  drinking  again  with  Baker  Witte  and  have 
forgotten  your  wife  and  children,  and  that  we  are  all 
ruined." 

"Oh!  that's  what  you  think?  Well  then,  let  me 
tell  you,  even  wise  hens  sometimes  lay  outside  the 
nest.  No,  I  have  been  drinking  with  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann,  and  the  Herr  Burmeister,  and  a 
French  General,  or  something  of  that  sort,  and  the 
Herr  Amtshauptmann  has  told  me,  he  won't  forget 
me,  for  Hhis  was  for  our  country.'  —  And  Fieka,  I 
say  to  you,  don't  throw  yourself  away.  You  needn't 
do  it.  I  wouldn't  mind  your  marrying  the  Malchin 
Merchant;  but  you  don't  want  to." 

Fieka  looked  up  from  her  work  and  said:  "Father, 
don't  talk  of  that,  —  at  least  not  this  evening." 

"Very  well.  You  are  right,  my  child.  —  Re- 
member, you  are  my  only  one  now,  for  where  are 
Karl  and  Joe?  Ah!  merciful  heaven!  —  But  I  only 
said,  don't  throw  yourself  away;  that  was  all  I  said. 


30  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

—  And,  Mother,  about  the  money,  think  of  what 
the  old  Herr  Amtshauptmann  said.  'Miller  Voss,  I 
will  not  forget  you ! '  —  But  the  Frenchman ,  where 
is  he?  Donnerwetter!  where's  the  Frenchman?  He 
was  lying  in  the  straw.  Friedrich  must  know,"  and 
he  threw  up  the  window  and  shouted:  "Friedrich, 
Friedrich,  don't  you  hear  me?" 

Friedrich  heard  him  well  enough,  but  he  winked 
to  himself  and  said:  "Yes,  yes,  cry  away  as  long  as 
#you  like.  Why  should  I  go  and  blurt  out  what  the 
Miller's  wife  can  see  for  herself  plainly  enough?  I'm 
not  going  to  burn  my  fingers."  So  saying  he  fastened 
up  the  Frenchman's  horse  and  took  off  the  saddle, 
and  as  he  took  down  the  valise  he  said:  "The  Devil, 
isn't  this  heavy!"  and  laid  it  in  the  oat  bin,  gave 
his  horses  their  last  feed,  lay  down  on  his  bed,  and 
slept  as  if  nothing  had  happened  that  day. 

As  the  Miller  was  beginning  to  fume  because 
Friedrich  did  not  come,  his  wife  said:  "Father,  never 
mind  him ;  you  are  tired  and  wearied  with  the  jolting 
of  the  waggon  —  come  to  bed;  Fieka  shall  warm  a 
little  beer  for  you  to  drive  out  the  night  air." 

"Mother,"  he  answered,  "you're  right  as  usual, 
I  am  dreadfully  tired,  for  money  business  is  so 
wearying.  Well,  it's  in  order  now  —  as  good  as  in 
order  at  least  —  for  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  said: 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  31 

*  Miller  Voss,  I  shall  not  forget  you/  I  must  be  in 
again  at  Stemhagen  early  to-morrow  morning." 

So  saying,  he  went  to  bed,  and  was  asleep  and 
snoring  in  five  minutes. 

Mother  and  daughter  sat  up  a  while  longer, 
Fieka  lost  in  thought  and  knitting  away  rapidly. 
"Fieka,  you  are  industrious,"  said  her  mother  at  last; 
^'and  I  don'^t  fold  my  hands  and  lay  them  in  my 
lap  either;  and  Father  has  worked  and  done  what  he 
could  all  his  life.  But  what  is  the  use  of  it  all? 
The  bad  times  come  and  what  the  French  have  left, 
the  Jews  and  lawyers  take;  the  day  after  to-morrow 
we  must  pay  Itzig  five  hundred  thalers,  and  we 
haven't  a  shilling." 

"But  Father  speaks  as  if  it  were  all  right  now?" 

"Don't  trust  what  he  says  this  evening;  a  red  sky  in 
the  morning  and  a  red  sky  in  the  evening  are  very  differ- 
ent things;  but  he  was  right  about  one  thing  this  even- 
ing; if  you  had  only  accepted  the  Malchin  Merchant! " 

"Mother  dear,"  said  Fieka  and  laid  her  hand 
gently  in  her  mother's  and  looked  up  into  her  face, 
"He  was  not  the  right  one." 

"Few  people  are  able  to  marry  exactly  as  they 
would  like  now- a -days,  daughter;  there  is  always 
something.  The  Merchant  is  well  off  and  if  your 
father  and  I  knew  that  you  were  well  provided  for, 
it  would  take  a  great  stone  off  our  hearts." 


32  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

''Mother,  dear  mother,  don't  talk  so.  Would 
you  have  me  leave  you  when  you're  in  trouble,  and 
in  a  dishonest  way?" 

"Dishonest,  Fieka?" 

"Yes,  dishonest,  mother,"  she  answered,  "for 
when  the  Merchant  sought  me,  he  thought  we  were 
rich,  and  therefore  he  wished  to  have  me,  but  I 
would  not  deceivp  him.  I  knew  we  were  poor,  for 
though  you  and  father  in  your  goodness  have  tried 
to  keep  it  from  me  that  we  had  lost  our  money,  I 
have  seen  it  for  a  long  while.  Now,  pretty  nearly 
every  one  knows  it,  so  if  any  one  comes  and  wants 
to  marry  me,  he  will  want  me  and  not  my  money; 
and  perhaps  he  will  be  the  right  one." 

Then  she  got  up,  and  put  her  knitting  things 
away  and  kissed  her  mother.  "Good  night,"  she 
said  and  went  into  her  bedroom. 

The  Miller's  wife,  after  sitting  thinking  some  time' 
longer,  sighed:  "  She's  right,  and  we  must  trust  in  God, 
who  orders  all  for  the  best." 

She  too  went  to  bed,  and  everything  lay  in  deep 
quiet.  Only  the  Mill  went  working  on  without 
ceasing  or  resting,  grinding  and  groaning,  flinging 
its  arms  about  like  a  man  in  sore  trouble  striving 
and  struggling  to  rise  above  the  toil  of  daily  life. 
And  from  the  wheel  the  water  ever  drips  like  bitter 
sweat*,  and  deep  down  below  the  stream  rushes  on 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  33 

with  its  monotonous  chant:  "Nought  avails  it,  nought 
avails  it.  I  am  thy  heart.  As  long  as  I  flow  wave 
upon  wave,  wish  upon  wish,  so  long  hast  thou  no 
rest.  But  when  autumn  comes  and  the  corn  is  ripe, 
my  stream  will  slacken;  and  then  the  miller  will 
close  his  mill,  and  everything  be  standing  still,  — 
and  then  'tis  Sunday." 


Jn  the  Year  *i5. 


34  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Why  Fritz  Sahlmann  got  a  box  on  the  ears ,  and  the  watchmaker  spent 
the  night  fighting  with  Mamsell  Westphalen's  four-post  bed ,  and 
why  the  French  Colonel  paid  a  visit  to  the  watchmaker  in  a  red 
blanket. 


When  the  Miller's  waggon  had  driven  off,  the 
Amtshauptmann  began  to  walk  towards  the  house, 
but  suddenly  turning  round  again,  he  went  up  to 
Herr  Droz  and  asked:  "Droz,  how  much  do  I  owe 
you?"  Droz  said  as  well  as  he  could  that  he  had 
been  very  glad  to  do  it,  for  "ze  Allemagne  is  now 
my  patrie  and  I  am  tout  for  ze  patrie." 

"I  don't  mean  that,"  said  the  old  Herr,  "I  meant 
for  my  watch  which  you  set  to  rights  for  me?"  Droz 
replied  that  that  was  already  paid  for,  adding  "ze 
leetle  boy,  Fritz  Sahlmann,  had  make  it  all  right." 

"I  am  quite  aware  of  that,"  said  the  old  Herr; 
"but,  my  dear  Droz,  a  watchmaker  must  be  paid  not 
only  for  what  he  does  to  a  watch  but  also  for  what 
he  does  not  do,  and  therefore  take  this,"  and  he  put 
a  couple  of  thalers  into  his  hand  and  went  into  the 
house. 

"Oh!    let  him  go,"    said  Mamsell  Westphalen, 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  35 

"he's  a  curious  old  gentleman,  but  he  means  it  well. 
But  Herr  Droi  now  come  in  with  me  and  stay  a  bit 
in  my  room  for  this  weather  is  enough  to  make 
one's  soul  freeze  in  one's  body." 

Herr  Droi  went  with  her,  but  they  had  scarcely 
sat  down  when  in  came  Fritz  Sahlmann  with  the 
Frenchman's  sword  in  his  hand,  and  the  Frenchman's 
helmet  on  his  head,  and  a  moustache  which  he  had 
grown  on  the  instant  with  the  snuff  of  a  candle. 
Smack !  he  had  a  box  on  his  ears  from  Mamsell  West- 
phalen:  "Monkey!"  and  she  took  the  sword  and 
helmet  from  him  and  put  them  by 'her  bed:  "Monkey, 
have  you  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  be  playing 
your  tricks  on  an  evening  like  this  when  we're  all 
in  such  trouble?  Go  down  to  Herr  Droi's  good  wife, 
represent  my  compliments  to  her,  and  she  is  not  to 
be  anxious*,  Herr  Droi  is  with  me,  and  there  is  no 
danger." 

Fritz  Sahlmann  goes;  and  now  they  both  sit 
down  and  tell  one  another  about  old  times  and  new, 
that  is  to  say,  they  try,  but  what  Mamsell  West- 
phalen  says,  Herr  Droi  does  not  understand  well, 
and  what  Herr  Droi  says,  Mamsell  Westphalen  under- 
stands very  badly  indeed. 

"He  are  bon,"  said  Droz  and  chinks  the  two 
thalers  in  his  hand. 

"  Of  course,  they're  good,"  replied  Mamsell  West- 
s' 


36  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

phalen,  "do  you  think  the  Amtshauptmann  would 
give  you  bad  money?" 

"Ah!  not  bad  money!  I  mean  him^  lui-m^me," 
and  he  pointed  to  the  room  above. 

"Oh!  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  you  mean  is 
bong.  Yes,  certainly  he  is  bong,  but  the  older  he 
gets  the  more  whimsical  he  grows,  for  he  turns 
night  into  day  and  day  into  night,  Herr  Droi.  Just 
think,  here  have  I  to  sit  up  and  roast  and  fry  right 
into  the  middle  of  the  night  because  he  won't  eat 
his  supper  till  eleven  or  even  twelve  o'clock;  and  if 
it  is  burnt  or  dried  up,  he  begins  to  scold,  and  then 
Frau  Amtshauptmann  who  is  very  soft-hearted,  she 
begins  to  cry.  Then  I  say,  *Frau  Amtshauptmann, 
why  do  you  cry?  Can  we  help  it  if  he  will  live  like 
a  heathen?  Leave  off  crying,  we  have  a  good  con- 
science.' But  Herr  Droi  it's  very  hard  for  me,  a 
lone  person,  to  sit  here  and  listen  to  the  storm  rag- 
ing round  the  Schloss,  and  the  rain  beating  against 
the  windows,  and  the  owls  hooting,  and  the  winds 
whistling  along  the  passages,  as  if  all  the  evil  spirits 
were  let  loose.  Just  listen!  what  weather  it  is  again! 
—  Herr  Droi,  are  you  at  all  afraid?" 

"Oh,  non!"  replied  Herr  Droi;  but  he  sat  still 
and  listened  to  the  weather  outside  and  said  at  last: 
"Leesten,  Mamsell,  du  tonnerre!" 

"What!  Pommes  de  terre?"  asked  Mamsell  West- 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  37 

phalen,  "what  have  potatoes  to  do  with  the  weather 
at  this  season?" 

"I  not  mean  ze  leetle  boys  wid  ze  brown  jack'ts, 
I  mean"  —  and  here  he  made  a  rapid  gesture  with 
his  hand  indicating  forked  lightning  —  "I  mean  ze 
bright  tsick-tsack  wid  rumpel,  pumpel,  rat-tat-te- 
tah." 

"Then  you  are  right,  Herr  Droi,  for  it  really 
does  go  rumpel,  pumpel,  rat-tat-te-tah,  out  of  doors." 

"Ah!"  said  Herr  Droi,  "zat  are  ze  tambours,  zat 
are  my  camerades,  ze  grenadier."  And  he  jumped 
up  and  marched  up  and  down  with  his  bearskin  on 
his  head,  for  here  it  was  high  enough;  and  then 
he  stood  still  again:  "Ecoutez,  zey  march  on  ze 
march^,  on  ze  market,  and  Ecoutez,  zat  are  ze  grand 
canons!" 

And  Mamsell  Westphalen  sat  there  with  her 
hands  folded  in  her  lap  and  looked  at  him  and 
shook  her  head  and  said:  "How  his  soldiering  does 
cling  to  him!  He's  generally  a  well-behaved  man, 
what  does  he  want  to  be  looking  so  fierce  for  now? 
It's  just  like  the  old  coachmen,  when  they  can 
drive  no  longer,  they  are  still  always  cracking  their 
whips." 

Presently  the  wife  of  Stalsch  the  weaver  came 
in  at  the  door,  —  she  was  Mamsell  Westphalen's 
oracle  and  newspaper,   bringing  her  the  news  of  the 


88  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

town,  and  for  every  mouthful  of  news  she  brought 
to  the  castle,  she  took  away  a  plateful  of  food,  — 
she  had  turned  her  gown  up  over  her  head  and  the 
rain  was  streaming  off  her  as  from  the  roof  of  a 
house.     She  shook  herself  once,  twice  — 

"Br-r-r,  what  a  night  it  is,"  she  said. 

"That  it  is,  Frau  Meister,''  answered  Mamsell 
Westphalen;  —  she  always  called  her  Frau  Meister 
to  show  that  she  was  the  wife  of  a  master  weaver, 
"not  forStalsch's  sake"  she  would  say,  "no,  for  my 
own  sake,  for  what  would  people  say  if  I  were  to 
be  intimate  with  a  woman  of  no  standing.  I  can  be 
proud  like  other  folk." 

"Mamsell,"  said  the  Frau  Meister,  "I  came  up 
to  tell  you  the  market-place  is  full  of  Frenchmen, 
and  they've  brought  with  them  ever  so  many  great 
cannons,  and  the  Burmeister  has  sent  for  my  hus- 
band, and  has  ordered  him  this  dark  night  and  in 
this  weather  to  the  villages  round  about  to  tell  the 
peasants  to  be  here  with  their  waggons  at  noon  to- 
morrow, and  you  see  if  you  don't  get  some  one 
quartered  on  you  to-night." 

"Heaven  preserve  us!"  exclaimed  Mamsell  West- 
phalen,  and  went  to  the  door  and  called  to  Hanchen 
and  Corlin  (the  maids)  and  told  them  to  light  the 
fire  in  the  blue  room  next  hers,  and  to  put  up  a 
couple  of  bedsteads  for  the  Devil  would  soon  send  a 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  '39 

bigmoiithed  French  Colonel  and  a  chattering  ape  of 
an  adjutant  up  to  the  Schloss,  and  turning  round  to 
her  company:  "There  they  may  lie,"  she  said,  "and 
if  the  ghost  in  the  blue  room  is  a  Christian  ghost 
it's  not  much  sleep  they'll  get  to-night  and  that's 
the  best  luck  I  wish  them.  For,  Herr  Droi,"  she 
went  on,  "the  next  room  to  this  is  haunted.  Do  you 
believe  in  ghosts?" 

Herr  Droi  said,  no. 

Presently  there  was  a  noise  outside  and  as  Mam- 
sell  Westphalen  looked  out  at  the  window,  yes,  there 
was  a  French  Colonel  with  his  adjutant  coming  in  at 
the  gate,  and  a  couple  of  orderlies  were  following 
them.  They  were  taken  into  the  blue  room  where 
they  put  on  dry  clothes,  and  then  they  went  up  to 
the  Amtshauptmann's  room  and  had  supper. 

Herr  Droi  in  the  meantime  sat  deep  in  thought, 
muttering  over  and  over  again  "Diable"  and 
"Diantre",  and  on  their  questioning  him  it  came  out 
that  he  was  in  great  fear;  it  might  be  his  death  he 
said,  for  if  he  were  to  go  out  in  his  uniform  and  the 
bearskin  and  sword  and  gun,  he  might  be  seen  by 
one  of  the  orderlies  or  one  of  the  French  sentries  or 
some  ruffian  or  other  of  a  Frenchman  and  they  might 
ask  him  where  he  came  from  and  where  he  was 
going  to,  and  then  if  he  could  not  give  a  satisfactory 
account  of  himself,  there  would  be  the  devil's  own 


40  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

work,  and  the  story  of  this  afternoon  might  come  out, 
and  what  would  happen  then? 

"Herr  Droi,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen,  "that's 
a  bad  business.  You  couldn't  put  on  that  imp  Fritz 
Sahlmann's  things,  for  if  you  did  manage  to  squeeze 
yourself  into  them,  they  would  be  much  too  short 
for  you.  And  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann's  clothes? 
No,  Herr  Droi,  you  mustn't  ask  that  of  me.  It 
would  be  just  as  if  I  were  to  set  fire  to  the  Schloss 
with  my  own  hands.  And,  heaven  be  praised,  we 
have  no  other  men  here.  But  Herr  Droi  you  saved 
us  when  we  were  in  danger  this  afternoon,  and  so 
I  will  save  you  in  return.  Your  wife  knows  that 
you're  up  here  amongst  Christian  folk.  You  shall 
sleep  to-night  in  my  four-post  bedstead,  and  I  will 
sleep  with  the  housemaid;  I'll  put  on  fresh  linen. 
Come,  Frau  Meister."  So  saying  she  went  out,  and 
presently  she  came  back  again,  put  fresh  sheets  on 
the  bed  and  asked  once  more:  "Herr  Droi,  are  you 
not  afraid?" 

And  Herr  Droi  again  replied  that  he  was  not. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  she;  "for  it  often  goes  tap 
—  tap  —  tap,  in  a  curious  way  close  by.  But  it 
never  comes  into  the  room.  I  have  had  a  horseshoe 
nailed  over  the  door.  —  Listen,  just  listen!  The 
Frenchmen  are  going  to  bed  now.  Just  listen  to  the 
chattering!  Herr  Droi  can  you  understand  it  all?" 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  41 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Herr  Droi. 

"I  can  easily  believe  it,  for  the  wall  is  very  thin. 
This  was  one  large  room  once,  but  now  it's  made 
into  two.  Well,  good  night,  Herr  Droi.  Come,  Frau 
Meister." 

So  saying  she  went  out,  followed  by  the  Frau 
Meister,  and  shortly  afterwards  by  Herr  Droi  too, 
who  suddenly  remembered  he  had  a  message  for  the 
Frau  Meister  to  take  to  his  wife.  Scarcely  were  the 
three  out  of  the  room,  when  some  one  flew  along  the 
corridor  where  the  night-lamp  was  burning,  into 
Mamsell  Westphalen's  room.  It  was  that  young 
rogue  Fritz  Sahlmann,  and  under  his  arm  he  had 
a  lump  of  ice  as  large  as  a  pumpkin  *,  he  climbed  up 
the  bedpost  like  a  cat,  and  laid  the  lump  of  ice  on 
the  top  of  the  bed.  "Wait  a  little  while,  you  old 
termagant,  this  is  for  the  box  on  the  ears  I  got,"  he 
said  to  himself  "It  will  perhaps  cool  you  a  little." 
And  he  slid  down  again  and  was  out  of  the  door  in 
a  moment. 

Herr  Droi  now  came  back  again,  undressed,  laid 
"la  grande  nation"  on  a  chair  by  the  side  of  the 
bed,  blew  out  his  candle,  lay  down,  and  stretched 
himself  out  in  the  nice  soft  bed  and  said:  "Ah!  que 
c'est  bon-,"  then  listened  to  the  storm  outside  and 
the  rain  pouring    down    and   the   jabbering  of  the 


42  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

Frenchmen.  At  last  the  chattering  ceased;  and  Herr 
Droi  was  half  asleep  and  half  awake  —  when  tap  — 
tap  —  tap.  "Haha,"  thought  Herr  Droi,  in  French, 
"that's  the  ghost  in  the  next  room;"  and  he  listened 
to  hear  what  his  countrymen  would  have  to  say  to 
it.  They  lay  quite  still;  but  tap  —  tap  —  tap  — 
it  goes  again  and  now  it  seems  to  Herr  Droi  to  be 
in  his  room.  Yes,  it  is  in  his  room ;  and  if  it's  in  the 
room,  it  must  have  come  in  at  the  door.  How  else 
could  it  get  in?  So  he  caught  up  one  of  his  shoes 
and  flung  it  at  the  door.  Bang!  went  the  shoe 
against  the  door;  the  noise  resounded  through  the 
corridor  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen.  The  French- 
men in  the  next  room  began  to  move  and  to  speak 
to  one  another.  All  however  was  soon  quiet  again, 
but  tap  —  tap  —  tap  —  it  went  once  more,  close 
to  Herr  Droi's  bed.  He  raised  himself  up  and  bent 
over  the  side  of  the  bed  to  be  able  to  hear  better, 
—  splash!  —  fell  a  drop  on  his  bald  head  —  and 
splash!  another  on  his  nose,  and  on  stretching  out 
his  hands  he  found  the  bedclothes  were  beginning  to 
get  wet  through.  "Diantre! "  he  exclaimed,  in  French, 
"there's  a  hole  in  the  roof,  and  the  rain's  coming  in 
through  the  ceiling.  What's  to  be  done?"  Of  course 
he  at  once  thought  of  moving  his  bed  as  any  other 
sensible  person  in  his  place  would  have  done.  He 
therefore  got  up  and  began  to  drag  at  the  head  of 


IN  THE  YEAR  *13.  43 

the  old  bed,  but  forgot  all  about  the  French  Chas- 
seur's helmet  and  sword  which  were  standing  in  the 
corner  and  which  now  fell  rattling  and  jangling  along 
the  wall  down  to  the  ground.  Herr  Droi  was  not  a 
little  startled  and  stood  still  and  listened  and  —  yes 
—  the  two  Frenchmen  had  been  awakened  by  the 
noise  and  were  raging  and  swearing. 

"But,"  thought  he,  "even  this  much  must  have 
done  some  good,"  and  he  crept  into  bed  again.  But 
the  lump  of  ice  was  now  nearly  melted  and  the  wa- 
ter of  course  came  streaming  through  on  to  the  bed; 
he  lay  still  a  while,  but  it  kept  coming  faster  and 
faster,  and  the  water  came  through  the  bedclothes, 
and  he  got  quite  cold  and  he  thought,  in  French, 
"they  will  be  fast  asleep  now,  if  I  can  only  bring 
the  foot  of  the  bed  as  far  away  from  the  wall,  I 
shall  get  rid  of  this  rain,"  and  got  up  and  began  to 
move  the  foot  of  the  bed;  —  crash!  fell  his  musket 
along  the  wall  on  to  the  floor;  and  if  there  was  no 
noise  before,  there  was  certainly  noise  now. 

The  poor  watchmaker  stood  there  biting  his  lip, 
biting  his  nails,  and  holding  his  breath  as  if  his 
very  breathing  might  wake  the  Frenchmen,  who  were 
already  swearing  half  aloud  and  crying  ^''silence''''  and 
tapping  against  the  wall. 

"Que  faire?"  he  said  to  himself,  in  French.  "The 
first  want  must  be  supplied,  as  the  old  woman  said 


44  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

when  she  burned  her  kneading-trough  to  heat  the 
water  for  the  bread;"  crept  into  bed  again  and  said, 
"Heaven  be  praised  at  last  I'm  out  of  the  drip." 

But  he  had  got  out  of  the  drip  to  come  into  the 
torrent,  for  —  dash!  —  it  came  down  from  above, 
—  splash!  it  poured  into  the  bed.  He  felt  cold  and 
wet,  like  a  frog  in  spring.  It  was  all  of  no  use.  He 
must  get  up  once  more  and  turn  the  bed  round  again ; 
but  softly  so  as  not  to  throw  anything  over.  He 
pulled  it  into  one  corner,  it  had  been  dry  there  be- 
fore*, he  pulled  it  into  the  other  corner,  there  too  it 
had  been  dry  before,  and  in  this  way  he  went  pulling 
the  bed  about  the  livelong  night  always  gently,  very 
gently,  but  wherever  he  went  there  was  water. 

At  last  he  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
and  thought  and  thought,  and  finally  slapped  his 
forehead,  in  French,  saying:  "Fool  that  I  am!"  for  a 
light  had  flashed  across  him,  that's  to  say  across  his 
mind,  for  in  the  room  it  was  quite  dark.  But  a  light 
in  the  room  he  must  have.  So  he  stole  out  into  the 
corridor  —  yes  —  the  nightlamp  was  still  burning; 
he  lighted  his  candle,  and  went  back,  looked  up  at 
the  top  of  the  bed  and  saw  something  lying  there, 
muttered:  "Ah,  Canaille!"  and  mounted  on  to  the 
bed,  but  could  not  reach.  He  stretched  himself  out 
as  far  as  he  could  and  tried  to  get  the  lump  of  ice, 
but  it  was  so  slippery  he  could  not  hold  it.   Parbleu! 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  45 

half  an  inch  more.  He  leant  his  whole  weight  against 
the  top  of  the  bed  when  —  crack  it  went,  and  bed 
and  ice  and  Droi  all  fell  in  a  heap  against  the  wall, 
and  there  lay  Herr  Droi  among  the  innocent  white 
curtains,  helplessly  kicking  his  feet  about,  as  if  they 
could  express  the  state  of  their  owner's  mind. 

All  at  once  the  door  opens,  and  in  comes  the 
French  Colonel.  In  order  not  to  catch  cold  he  had 
thrown  a  red  blanket  over  his  shoulders  and  in  his 
hand  he  held  a  double-barrelled  pistol.  Behind  him 
stood  the  adjutant  with  a  drawn  sword.  Herr  Droi 
scrambles  out  from  under  the  bed-curtains,  puts  on 
his  bearskin,  then  draws  himself  up  to  his  full 
height  and  makes  a  salute  saying:  *'Bon  soir,  mon 
colonel." 

The  Colonel  looked  at  Droz,  and  the  adjutant 
looked  at  the  Colonel.  They  saw  that  they  had  a 
Frenchman  to  deal  with.  They  saw  the  black  leggings 
and  the  whole  "grande  nation"  lying  beside  the  bed. 
They  saw  the  sword  and  gun,  and  —  worse  and  worse 
—  they  saw  the  Chasseur's  sabre  and  helmet.  What's 
this?  What's  th^  meaning  of  this?  Herr  Droi  stam- 
mers out  something.  Herr  Droi  begins  to  tell  them 
about  Jena  and  Marengo.  Herr  Droi  begins  to  tell 
lies,  Herr  Droi  lies  capitally,  pity  they  don't  believe 
him.     In  the  room  and  in  the  corridor  there  is  a 


46  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

fearful  noise;  the  Colonel  calls  Herr  Droi  a  deserter 
and  marauder,  the  adjutant  calls  for  the  orderlies, 
the  orderlies  in  haste  and  in  scant  apparel,  —  as  if 
some  one  had  fallen  into  the  water  and  they  wanted 
to  jump  in  after  him  without  wetting  their  trousers, 
—  rush  in  from  one  side  of  the  corridor,  while  from 
the  other  side  advances  Mamsell  Westphalen  with  the 
cook  and  the  housemaid.  In  her  hand  she  has  a 
large  stable  lantern,  but  otherwise  she  is  not  well  off 
as  to  clothes.  She  holds  one  hand  up  to  her  eyes 
^s  if  the  light  of  the  lantern  blinded  her,  and  the 
housemaid  looks  over  her  (Mamsell  Westphalen's) 
shoulder  and  says  to  the  cook  ''Good  heavens,  Corlin, 
do  look." 

"For  shame,"  says  Mamsell  Westphalen,  "what 
is  she  to  look  at?  what  have  you  got  to  look  at?  and 
what  is  there  here  to  look  at?  We  have  come  here 
on  account  of  this  heathenish  noise  at  a  time  when 
every  one  ought  to  be  asleep,  and  because  we  heard 
Herr  Droi's  voice  crying  out  in  terror  and  trouble. 
And  now  turn  about."  The  two  women  and  Mam- 
sell Westphalen  turn  their  backs  on  the  Frenchmen 
and  Mamsell  says:  "Herr  French  Colonel,  what  is 
this?  what  do  you  call  this?  and  what  is  the  meaning 
of  this?  Why  don't  you  let  Herr  Droi  sleep  in  peace 
in  my  room?  This  is  a  christian  house  and  a  quiet 
house,   and  we  are  not   accustomed  to  such  ways." 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  47 

And  she  added  to  herself  half  aloud  "one  of  them 
will  be  sure  to  understand  me." 

The  French  Colonel  looked  at  himself,  as  he  stood 
there  in  his  red  blanket,  and  Herr  Droi  with  the 
bearskin  on  his  head,  and  his  thin-legged  adjutant 
skipping  about  in  his  zeal,  and  Mamsell  Westphalen's 
broad  back;  and  the  whole  scene  looked  so  comical, 
he  burst  out  laughing  and  said  in  good  German  that 
she  was  only  to  go  on,  he  could  understand  her  well 
enough,  for  he  was  a  German,  a  Westphalian  (West- 
phalen). 

"That's  my  name,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen. 

The  Colonel  laughed  and  said  he  was  only  a 
Westphalian  by  birth,  his  name  was  "von  Toll." 

Mamsell  Westphalen  dropped  a  low  curtsey,  back- 
wards. "Begging  your  pardon,  are  you  perhaps  a 
relative  of  Toll  our  postmaster  and  innkeeper  down 
in  the  town?" 

The  Colonel  said  that  he  had  not  the  honour,  but 
that  he  was  almost  freezing;  that  the  orderlies  were 
to  remain  with  Herr  Droi,  for  he  must  be  a  French 
deserter,  and  they  were  also  to  search  for  the  French 
Chasseur  to  whom  the  helmet  and  sabre  belonged. 

Herr  Droi  now  began  again  to  lie,  and  Mamsell 
Westphalen  felt  quite  ashamed  of  him  and  turned 
round  in  anger  and  said:  "For  shame,  Herr  Droi,  to 
be  stuffing  the  easy  chair  that  ought  to  make  you 


48  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

comfortable  in  your  old  age  with  wickedness,  you're 
making  a  hard  pillow  for  your  conscience."  Then 
making  a  little  curtsey,  she  said  to  the  colonel,  "  My 
compliments,  Herr  Colonel  von  Toll,"  and  marched 
off  with  the  two  maids. 

The  others  also  went;  and  soon  all  was  still 
again,  and  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  had  no  suspicion 
of  what  was  passing  in  his  house  for  he  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  just. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  49 


CHAPTER  IV. 

How  the  Miller  felt  next  morning;  why  Friedrich  appeared  to  the 
Miller's  wife  like  the  serpent  in  the  Garden  of  Paradise ;  and  why 
Fieka  thought  Joe  Voss's  son  was  sent  to  them  by  Providence. 

The  next  morning  Miller  Voss  felt  as  if  he  had 
half-a-dozen  sparrows  in  his  head ,  which  were 
pecking  away  at  flies.  It  was  not,  he  said  to  him- 
self, because  of  last  night's  deep  drinking.  No,  it 
was  chiefly  because  of  the  Frenchman. 

"Mother,"  said  he  as  he  pulled  on  his  boots,  — 
and  he  nodded  his  head  and  looked  knowingly  into 
their  wide  tops,  "red  wine  is  a  fine  thing  in  the 
evening,  but,  in  the  morning,  it  seems  to  me  it's  no 
better  than  brandy  or  beer.  However,  if  you  jump 
over  a  dog  you  jump  over  his  tail  too.  But  where 
is  the  Frenchman?  He  lay  in  the  straw,  and  Fried- 
rich  must  know  what  has  become  of  him." 

"Father,"  said  his  wife,  "never  mind  that  now. 
Friedrich  must  come  soon  you  know,  for  it's  time  for 
the  first  breakfast." 

The  Miller  went  into  the  room,  sat  down  at  the 
table  where  the  large  bowl  of  barley-broth  was  stand- 
ing and  helped  himself;  then  the  mother  helped  her- 

In  the  Year  'i3.  4 


50  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

self  and  then  Fieka  and,  lastly,  the  two  maid-ser- 
vants; for  such  was  the  custom  in  those  days;  and 
no  miller  had  yet  heard  of  coffee. 

The  Miller  ate,  then  laid  down  his  spoon: 
"Where  can  Friedrich  be?"  He  began  eating  again, 
then  went  to  the  window  and  shouted  across  the 
yard;  "Friedrich."     Still  no  Friedrich. 

The  bowl  of  broth  was  empty;  the  servants  took 
away  the  things,  and  the  Miller  said:  "When  I  have 
hired  a  servant,  I'm  not  going  to  have  him  play 
the  fine  gentleman!"  —  and  was  just  setting  out 
to  look  after  him,  when  Friedrich  came  in,  car- 
rying something  under  his  arm. 

"Where  have  you  been,  you  vagabond?"  asked 
the  Miller? 

"Miller,"  said  Friedrich,  and  drew  his  clasp- 
knife  out  of  his  pocket  and  stuck  it  under  the  door- 
latch,  "don't  speak  like  that;  it's  not  fit  for  you,  nor 
yet  for  me.  When  wild  geese  are  in  the  air  it's  ill 
sowing  peas,  and  when  gossiping  women  are  in  the 
room  it's  best  not  to  say  what  you  don't  wish  every- 
body to  know.  So  I  waited  till  the  maids  had  left 
the  room.  Here!"  and  he  threw  something  on  to 
the  table  so  that  it  rang  again.  "Here,  Miller  Voss. 
I've  not  brought  you  the  fox  himself,  nor  yet  his 
skin,  but  here's  his  leather  bag." 

"What  does  this  mean?"   exclaimed  the  Miller, 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  61 

and  hastily  seized  the  valise  and  began  unbuckling 
the  straps. 

"What  does  it  mean?'^  said  Friedrich  "You  must 
find  that  out  for  yourself;  it's  no  business  of  mine. 
I  have  taken  my  share  already." 

The  Miller  shook  the  valise  over  the  table,  and 
a  packet  of  silver  spoons  fell  out  and  a  quantity  of 
silver  coin,  and  beautiful,  round,  yellow  gold  — 
and  a  little  box  came  to  light,  and  when  the  Miller's 
wife  opened  it,  there  lay  rings  and  broaches  with 
gold  chains  coiled  in  amongst  them  like  serpents 
among  brilliant  flowers. 

"Heaven  preserve  us!''  she  cried,  and  let  the 
box  fall. 

Fieka  had  stood  there  looking  on,  her  hands 
pressed  to  her  bosom  and  her  eyes  getting  larger 
and  larger.  She  now  threw  herself,  pale  as  death, 
across  the  table,  laid  her  arms  over  the  gold  and 
silver  treasure  and  cried: 

"It  is  the  Frenchman's!  It  is  the  Frenchman's. 
It  is  not  ours." 

When  she  lifted  up  her  head,  and  glanced  at 
her  father,  she  looked  as  if  somQ  one  had  stabbed 
her  with  a  knife,  and  the  anguish  of  death  was  in 
her  face  as  she  said  "Father,  father." 

And  the    old   Miller  sat   there  fidgeting  about 

with  his   night-cap,   and  he  looked  at  his  child  in 

4* 


52  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

her  anguish  and  then  again  at  the  glittering  money. 
All  at  once  he  sprang  up,  nearly  overturning  the 
table,  and  cried: 

"God  in  Heaven!  I  know  nothing  about  it.  I 
don't  know  what  has  become  of  him;  he  lay  in  the 
straw,  that  I  know,"  and  added  in  a  feeble  voice, 
*'Friedrich  must  know  the  rest." 

Fieka  left  the  money,  and  darted  towards  Fried- 
rich.     "Where  is  the  Frenchman?"  she  screamed. 

Friedrich,  with  his  old  iron  face,  stood  quietly 
looking  at  her.  "God  save  us!"  he  said  at  last.  "Is 
this  to  be  a  court  of  justice  then?  Why,  Fieka, 
Fieka!  Do  I  look  like  a  robber  and  murderer?  I 
laid  the  Frenchman  with  my  own  hands  under  a 
beech-tree  in  the  Stemhagen  wood,  and,  if  the  night 
air  hasn't  been  too  cool  for  him,  he'll  be  lying 
there  now  —  still  as  a  rat  —  for  he  was  dead 
drunk." 

"That  he  was,"  said  the  Miller. 

Fieka  looked  first  at  Friedrich  and  then  at  her 
old  father,  who  was  listening  to  what  Friedrich  was 
saying,  "Friedrich,"  she  said,  "how  could  I  help 
thinking  it.  You  are  always  talking  about  killing 
and  murdering  Frenchmen."  And  she  put  her  apron 
up  to  her  eyes,  threw  herself  down  on  the  bench 
behind  the  large,  tile-covered  stove,  and  began  to 
cry  bitterly. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  53 

" Dumouriez !  That  I  am,"  said  Friedrich,  *'and 
if  I  could  wring  the  necks  of  those  d — d  patriots 
I'd  do  it.  But  a  man  who  could  not  defend  him- 
self? —  And  for  his  money  too!"  . . .  muttered  some- 
thing in  his  beard  and  went  to  the  door;  he  took  his 
knife  from  under  the  latch,  and  then  turned  round 
and  said: 

"Miller,  the  air  is  clear  again,  for  the  two  girls 
are  gone  to  their  work.  I  have  given  you  the 
things;  consider  well  what  you  do  with  them.  If 
you  wish  to  keep  them  —  well  and  good.  I  have 
nothing  to  say  against  it,  for,  according  to  my  poor 
wits  you've  a  right  to  them.  The  French  have  taken 
more  than  this  from  you;  and,  if  you  don't  wish  it 
to  be  talked  about,  I,  for  my  part,  can  be  silent. 
But  if  you  are  going  to  deliver  it  up  to  the  Amts- 
hauptmann,  and  have  to  swear  that  nothing  has  been 
taken  out  of  it,  just  say  that  I  have  taken  my 
share." 

"Friedrich,  Friedrich,"  said  the  Miller's  wife,  "do 
not  be  bringing  yourself  into  trouble,  nor  us  either. 
—  At  this  moment  you  seem  to  me  to  be  like  the 
serpent  in  the  Garden  of  Paradise." 

"Frau,"  replied  Friedrich,  "everybody  knows 
best  what  he  ought  to  do  himself.  Two  years  ago 
when  I  had  been  taking  salt  to  the  Inn  at  Klaukow 
for  Rathsherr  Kriiger  of  Malchin ,  and  was  going  to 


54  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

pay  my  bill,  and  put  an  eight-groschen  piece  down 
on  the  table,  an  infamous  rascal  of  a  Chasseur 
pounced  upon  it,  and  when  I  tried  to  get  it  back, 
three  of  them  fell  upon  me  and  nearly  beat  me  to 
death.  I  have  taken  the  eight  groschen,  but  the 
blows  I  keep  in  store  for  them.  And  if  this  fellow 
did  not  do  it  himself,  perhaps  his  brother  did,  or 
his  comrade  —  the  account  remains  in  the  family. 
The  eight  groschen  I  shall  certainly  keep."  And  so 
saying  he  went  out  at  the  door. 

The  Miller,  meanwhile,  had  been  walking  up  and 
down  the  room,  and  had  rubbed  his  head,  and  had 
scratched  his  head,  had  stood  still  and  looked  at  the 
money,  and  when  Friedrich  went  out,  he  walked  up 
to  his  cupboard,  brought  out  Adler  Erben  of  Rostock's 
Calendar,  and  looked  for  that  which  he  had  looked 
for  a  hundred  times  before,  and  sighed  "Yes,  it  is  to- 
morrow." His  wife  stood  with  her  back  against  the 
clock,  wringing  her  hands. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Miller,  "if  we  keep  it,  we  shall 
be  out  of  our  troubles." 

"0  God,  Father!"  groaned  his  wife,  and  looked 
up  anxiously  in  his  face. 

"And  the  fellow  has  stolen  it,"  he  went  on;  "the 
silver  spoons  have  a  crest;  but  even  if  it  can  be 
found  out  who  they  have  belonged  to,  the  money  is 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  55 

from  all  sorts  of  places  and  won't  easily  find  its 
way  back  to  the  right  pockets." 

"Father,"  said  his  wife,  "you  risk  your  neck  if 
the  fellow  accuses  you  publicly  of  having  taken 
them  from  him." 

"He  won't  open  his  mouth,  for  if  he  has  to  tell 
where  the  money  has  all  come  from,  they  won't 
quite  feed  him  on  raisins  and  almond  cakes.  —  And 
after  all,  have  we  taken  it?  They  fastened  the  horse 
to  the  tail  of  the  waggon  up  at  the  Schloss,  and  the 
horse  brought  the  leather  bag  into  the  stable  to 
Friedrich  last  night.     Who  can  say  I  took  it?" 

Thereupon  he  began  to  count  the  money,  and 
sort  it  into  heaps. 

"Yes,  but  it  does  not  belong  to  us,"  said  his 
wife. 

"Who  does  it  belong  to,  then?"  asked  the  Miller. 
"It  doesn't  belong  to  the  Frenchman  either;  and,  if 
we  wanted  to  give  it  back  to  him,  where  is  he?" 

"Why,  Friedrich  tells  you  he  is  in  the  Stem- 
hagen  Wood." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  Miller  scornfully.  "Do  you 
think  then  that  he  would  lie  there  in  this  weather 
from  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  till  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning?  He  will  have  gone  on  his  way  long 
ago-,  and  who  is  to  order  me  to  run  after  him  with 
his  money?" 


56  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

He  began  to  count  again,  and  his  wife  sat  down 
and  folded  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  sighed.  "You 
know  who  orders  it." 

rieka  was  still  sitting  on  the  bench  crying  by 
herself.  The  Miller  went  on  counting  the  money, 
but  looked  up  so  frequently  at  Fieka  that  it  seemed 
as  if  he  must  certainly  miscount.  At  last  he  had 
finished,  and  leaning  with  his  two  hands  on  the 
table,  he  looked  once  more  over  the  treasure,  and 
said,  — 

"A  third  of  this  gold  and  silver  would  make 
more  than  seven  hundred  thalers  in  Prussian  money. 
Now,  we  are  out  of  our  troubles.'' 

Then  Fieka  stood  up  and  dried  her  eyes;  her 
face  was  pale  and  quiet;  —  "Our  troubles  are  only 
just  beginning,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Don't  talk  like  that,  Fieka,"  said  her  father, 
and  turned  his  head  away  from  her. 

"From  this  time  forward  we  shall  eat  unblessed 
bread,  and  sleep  unblessed  sleep,  and  you  can  bury 
the  money  and  bury  your  own  good  name  with  it. 

"There  is  no  question  of  burying,"  said  the 
Miller,  "No  indeed!  I  shall  pay  my  debts  with  it 
honestly." 

"Honestly,  Father?  And  if  it  were  so  —  which 
it  is  not  —  would  not  the  old  Herr  Amtshauptmann 
ask  you  what  money  you  had  paid   the  Jew  with? 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  57 

And  would  not  the  French  ask  where  you  got  the 
horse  from?  And  how  can  you  be  sure  that  Fried- 
rich  will  not  tell?" 

The  Miller  looked  half  taken  aback  and  half 
angry,  and  was  just  going  to  burst  out  as  people  do 
when  any  one  catches  them  in  some  stupid  or  dis- 
honest act.  They  try  to  silence  their  conscience  by 
bluster,  as  children  in  the  dark  try  to  keep  away  the 
ghosts  by  whistling  and  singing.  But  Fieka  did  not 
let  the  storm  come;  she  flung  her  arms  round  her 
father,  looked  straight  into  his  eyes,  and  cried  — 

"Father!  Father!  Take  the  money  to  the  baili- 
wick*, give  it  to  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann.  You 
know  he  said  he  would  not  forget  you.  How  often 
you  have  told  me  about  your  old  father,  and  about 
your  mother,  how  she  honestly  earned  her  bread  to 
the  end  of  her  life  by  spinning*,  and  how  often  you 
have  told  me  about  when  you  were  an  apprentice, 
and  your  finding  the  other  apprentice's  purse,  and 
how  you  gave  it  back  to  him,  and  how  glad  he  was, 
and  how  glad  you  were." 

"That  was  quite  a  different  thing,"  said  the 
Miller.  "I  knew  who  that  money  belonged  to,  but 
I  don't  know  whose  this  is,  and  I  haven't  either  taken 
or  stolen  it.     I  have  a  clear  conscience." 

All  at  once  the  Miller's  wife  jumped  up  from 
her  chair,   and  cried,   "Good  Heavens!     A  strange 


58  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

man  has  just  passed  the  window  and  he  is  com- 
ing in." 

"Bolt  the  door!"  shouted  the  Miller,  and  turned 
sharply  round  towards  the  money;  knocked  up 
against  the  table,  and  shook  down  some  of  the  gold 
pieces  which  went  rolling  along  the  floor. 

"Is  that  your  clear  conscience ? "  asked  Fieka,  and 
looked  at  her  father  and  mother,  and  said:  "Mother, 
unbolt  the  door.  The  man  is  sent  by  Providence; 
he  brings  a  blessing  upon  the  house." 

Her  mother  unbolted  the  door,  and  stood  with 
her  eyes  cast  down,  while  the  Miller  grew  very  red, 
and  turned  hastily  round,  and  looked  out  at  the 
window. 

A  knock  came.  "Come  in,"  said  Fieka,  and  in 
stepped  a  fine  young  fellow  of  about  two-and- 
twenty.  He  glanced  round  the  room  rather  curi- 
ously as  if  he  had  long  been  wishing  to  know  how 
it  stood  with  them;  made  a  proper  bow  with  a  little 
scrape  of  the  foot,  and  said  — 

"Good  morning." 

"Good  morning,"  returned  Fieka. 

The  Miller  did  not  move,  and  his  wife  stooped 
down  and  picked  up  the  gold  pieces  which  had 
fallen  on  the  floor.  As  the  two  elders  did  not  re- 
turn his  greeting,  and  he  became  aware  of  the 
money  on  the  table,  the  young  man  said  — 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  59 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  in  the  way?" 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Fieka  and  put  a  chair  for  him 
by  the  tile-stove,  "Father  will  soon  have  done  his 
business." 

"Yes,  directly,"  said  the  Miller,  and  he  opened 
the  window,  and  called  out  "Friedrich,  get  out  the 
little  cart,  and  put  the  horse  to,  and  fasten  the 
Frenchman's  horse  behind.  We  are  going  to  the 
bailiwick."  He  shut  the  window,  and  said,  turning 
to  his  wife  and  daughter:  "Well!  That's  done. 
Now,  pack  the  things  into  the  leather  bag,  and 
Friedrich  can  put  it  into  the  cart"  —  went  up  to 
the  stranger  and  said  "welcome." 

"Miller  Voss,"  said  the  young  man,  rising  and 
giving  the  Miller  his  hand,  "don't  let  me  disturb 
you.  I  can  wait;  for,  though  the  matter  I  have 
come  to  you  about  is  important,  there  is  no  great 
hurry.  —  In  fact  what  I  chiefly  came  for  was  to  see 
my  relations." 

"Kelations?"  said  the  Miller,  and  looked  at  him 
doubtingly. 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "I  am  Joe  Voss's  son, 
your  twin-brother's  child;"  and  as  the  Miller  was 
silent,  and  drew  back  his  hand,  he  added:  "a  fort- 
night ago,  I  came  of  age,  and  then  I  thought  to 
myself,  *I  have  no  brother  or  sister  or  any  relation 
hereabouts,  I  must  drive  over  to  Stemhagen  and  see 


60  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

if  there  is  no  one  there  who  will  care  to  know  Joe 
Voss's  son.'"  And,  so  saying  he  went  up  to  the 
Miller's  wife,  and  gave  her  his  hand,  and  then  to 
Fieka;  and,  as  the  miller  still  stood  pondering  and 
looking  as  if  the  mice  had  taken  the  butter  off  his 
bread,  he  added:  *' Uncle,  the  lawsuit  is  weighing  on 
your  mind;  let  it  be,  we  can  be  friends  all  the 
same." 

"The  devil  we  can!"  said  the  Miller.  "And 
youVe  been  boasting  to  people  that  you  would  oust 
me  from  the  Borcherts  Inn." 

"Whom  have  I  said  it  to?"  asked  Heinrich. 
"People  will  talk.  Can  I  help  it?  My  father  began 
the  quarrel;  —  he  thought  he  was  in  the  right  — 
my  guardian  has  gone  on  with  it;  and  I  have  stood 
by.  But  a  pretty  sum  of  money  has  slipped  through 
my  fingers,  I  honestly  confess,  and  it  shall  not  be 
my  fault  if  we  don't  come  to  an  understanding." 

"You  want  to  beat  the  bush;  your  lawyer  has 
advised  you  to  come  here." 

"I  advise  myself,  uncle,"  said  the  young  man, 
and  took  up  his  hat,  "for,  if  I  were  to  listen  much 
longer  to  the  lawyer's  advice,  the  water  would  run 
short  and  my  mill  would  stop.  It's  very  different 
for  you.  Any  one  who  can  lard  his  leather  bag 
like   that,    can  fry  a  long  time   without  burning." 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  61 

And  he  pointed  to  the  valise  which  was  just 
packed. 

"What  the  devil  does  that  matter  to  you?'' 
thundered  the  Miller,  and  turned  hastily  round  quite 
black  in  the  face.  "That  money  ....  that  money 
is  not  mine." 

Fieka  went  up  to  her  father,  and  stroked  his 
cheek.     "Father,  he  did  not  mean  anything  wrong." 

"No,"  said  Heinrich,  "I  came  with  good  inten- 
tions, and  I  will  not  go  away  in  anger  if  I  can  help 
it.  So  I  wish  you  good  morning.  My  waggon  is 
standing  out  there  before  the  yard  gate  only  a  couple 
of  paces  off." 

"Stop,"  said  Fieka,  "Cousin  Heinrich,  do  not  be 
in  such  a  hurry.  Father's  head  is  full  of  business 
that  must  be  attended  to  this  morning.  It  would 
vex  him  very  much  if  you  were  to  leave  us  in  ill 
will." 

"Fieka,"  said  the  old  Miller,  and  turned  round, 
and  kissed  his  daughter  on  the  forehead,  "you  have 
been  twice  right  and  I  twice  wrong,  this  morning*, 
you  are  a  darling  child,"  and  he  gave  his  hand  to 
the  young  man.  —  "Heinrich,  it  shall  never  be  said 
that  I  drove  Joe  Voss's  son  out  of  my  house  with 
hard  words.  You  want  to  go  away  without  having 
anything  to  eat  or  drink?  No,  my  son,  you  must 
stay  here  till  I  come  back,   for  I  must  be  off  now 


62  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

to  the  bailiwick,  I  have  pressing  business.  Look, 
Friedrich  is  waiting.  Well,  goodbye!  and  if  you 
are  really  in  earnest  about  coming  to  an  under- 
standing, something  may  be  done.  Goodbye,  mother; 
goodbye,  Fieka.''  And  he  went  out  and  mounted 
into  his  waggon. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  63 


CHAPTER   V. 

In  which  Friedrich  translates  the  Prussian  motto  "suum  cuique"  for 
the  Miller's  benefit,  and  goes  on  a  wild-goose  chase  after  the 
Frenchman ;  and  the  Miller  finds  he  has  sat  down  on  a  swarm  of 
bees. 

"Miller,"  said  Friedrich  as  they  left  the  mill 
and  came  out  into  the  high  road,  "have  you  ever 
seen  an  old  woman  break  her  pitcher  and  then  put 
the  pieces  together  and  say  *thafs  how  it  was?'" 

"Why?"  asked  the  Miller. 

"Oh!  nothing,"  said  Friedrich,  and  he  waved  his 
whip  vacantly  over  the  horses  as  if  it  were  the 
season  for  flies.     The  Miller  sat  lost  in  thought. 

After  a  time  Friedrich  asked  again  — 

"Miller,  have  you  ever  seen  a  boy  out  of  whose 
hand  a  sparrow  has  just  escaped,  look  into  his  empty 
hand  and  say  '0!'?" 

"Why?"  asked  the  Miller. 

Friedrich  simply  repeated  "Oh!  nothing." 

The  Miller  sat  still  again,  and  all  sorts  of  things 
passed  through  his  mind,  and  he  puzzled  over  some 
such  rule-of-three  sum  as:  "What  will  the  bushel 
of  oats  come  to  next  Easter  if  I  don't  pay  the  Jew 
to-morrow?"  and  was  soon  lost  in  the  fractions. 


64  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

They  drive  on  and  on.  At  last  Friedrich  turns 
half  round  and  asks  —  "Miller,  do  you  know  the 
proverb:  'don't  pour  your  dirty  water  away  till  you 
have  got  clean'?" 

The  Miller  began  to  get  angry,  and  after  think- 
ing for  some  time  what  Friedrich  was  driving  at 
with  these  questions,  he  said:  "Are  you  chaffing 
me?" 

"Chaffing?"  said  Friedrich.  "No,  heaven  forbid! 
—  I  didn't  mean  anything.  —  But  I  know  another 
saying,  and  that  is,  '  If  you  have  a  thing,  you've  got 
it.'  And  we  Prussians  have  an  eagle  for  our  crest, 
and  underneath  is  a  Latin  verse  which  fits  that  say- 
ing as  close  as  your  finger  and  thumb  when  you  nip 
a  pig's  tail.  And  the  sergeant  of  my  company  —  he 
was  a  runaway  student  —  he  understood  the  verse 
and  translated  it:  'Hold  fast  what  you've  got,  and 
take  what  you  can  get.'  Now,  this  proverb  is  handy 
at  times,  'specially  in  time  of  war."  Turning  round 
again  he  went  on.  "Miller  Voss,  cursed  be  the 
shilling  I  steal  from  my  neighbour,  and  cursed  be 
the  wheat,  oats,  or  barley  I  cheat  my  master  of;  but 
in  time  of  war  it's  quite  different.  The  Turks  and 
the  French  are  the  country's  enemy,  and  the  country's 
enemy  is  not  better  by  a  hair  than  the  arch-enemy. 
What  said  old  Captain  von  Restorp?  'Injury  must 
be  done  to  the  enemy  in  every  way!'     Now,  Miller 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  65 

Voss,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  valise,  "that  would  be 
an  injury." 

"Hold  your  tongue,"  said  the  Miller  sharply,  "the 
thing  is  settled.  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
money,  I'll  take  it  to  the  bailiwick, —  and  I  wish  I 
could  take  the  Frenchman  along  with  it.  Fieka  thinks 
some  bad  end  will  come  of  the  business." 

"As  you  please,"  said  Friedrich,  "Gee  up,"  and 
he  touched  the  horses  with  his  whip.  "Some  listen 
to  men,  and  some  listen  to  women;  for  my  part  I 
don't  hold  by  women's  advice." 

"Nor  I  neither  generally,'*  said  the  Miller. 

They  drove  on  silently  again  till  at  length 
Friedrich  asked  —  "Miller,  who  was  that  young 
fellow  who  came  to  the  mill  this  morning?" 

"That  was  Joe  Voss's  son*,  it's  him  I  have  the 
lawsuit  with.     Do  you  like  him?" 

"I  only  saw  his  back.  Well  —  yes  he'd  make 
a  grenadier." 

"He  says  he  wants  to  come  to  an  understanding," 
said  the  Miller. 

"Then  I  like  him  still  better*,  a  lean  compromise 
is  better  than  a  fat  lawsuit." 

"He  is  going  to  wait  for  me  till  I  come  back." 

"Is  he?"   said  Friedrich,   and  turned  half  round 

Jn  the  Year  'iS.  5 


66  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

again,  "Miller,  I  tell  you  what,  it  would  be  better  if 
he  came  to  an  understanding  with  Fieka." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  the  Miller. 

"Oh!  nothing,"  said  Friedrich. 

Presently  he  bent  down  and  looked  sharply  along 
the  road,  then  gave  the  reins  into  the  Miller's  hand, 
jumped  off  the  waggon,  unfastened  the  Chasseur's 
horse  and,  before  Voss  knew  what  was  going  to 
happen,  was  in  the  great  Kolpin  dyke,  had  turned 
round  a  corner  and  bound  the  horse  to  a  thorn-tree 
in  the  dyke,  so  that  he  could  not  be  seen. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  the  Miller,  when 
he  came  back. 

"What's  the  matter?  Why,  two  men  are  coming 
along  on  horseback,  out  yonder  by  the  Stemhagen 
fields,  and  just  now  when  the  sun  came  out,  I  saw  a 
bright  flash.  Those  are  Frenchmen,  and  if  they  were 
to  catch  a  Chasseur's  horse  here  with  bridle  and 
saddle,  they  would  have  something  to  say  to  us*,  — 
take  my  word  for  it." 

"True,"  said  the  Miller. 

When  they  came  to  the  Stemhagen  wood.  Fried - 
rich  pointed  with  his  whip  to  the  beech-tree  where 
the  straw  still  lay,  and  said:  "That's  where  I  laid 
him." 

"If  he  were  only  there  now!"  sighed  the  Miller. 

"You  can't  expect  it,   Miller.     For  it  rained  in 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  67 

torrents  last  night,  and  a  beech-tree  is  not  quite 
waterproof  at  this  time  of  year." 

"True,"  said  the  Miller  again. 

Whilst  they  were  still  talking,  the  two  Frenchmen 
rode  up,  and  asked  the  way  to  the  Gielow  mill;  for 
several  roads  met  here.  Before  the  Miller  could  an- 
swer, Friedrich  pointed  to  the  right,  the  way  to 
Cumrowsch  wood,  and  on  their  asking  how  far  it 
was,  he  said  "a  little  lieu^''  whereupon  they  rode 
off. 

''Are  you  possessed  by  the  devil?"  asked  the 
Miller.  "If  they  go  on  riding  that  way,  they  may- 
look  at  the  Gielow  mill  with  their  backs  all  their 
lives.     But  what  was  it  for?" 

"Those  sorts  of  fellows  leave  a  house  cleared 
out ,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  eat  warmed-up  cabbage 
for  the  first  breakfast  every  morning." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  I  only  mean  —  look  here.  Miller;  who 
knows  but  what  those  two,  if  they  had  gone  to  the 
mill,  might  have  fallen  in  love  with  our  Stiena. 
And  perhaps  they  might  have  followed  her  into  the 
cowhouse,  and  the  cowhouse  might  have  seemed  a 
little  crowded,  and  they  might  have  led  out  our  two 
milch-cows;  and  when  they  had  got  them  out,  it 
might  have  come  into  their  heads  to  drive  them 
away,    and  then  we  should   have  no  more  boiled 

5* 


68  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

milk  for  breakfast,  and  the  cabbages  would  have 
come  on  in  their  turn  and  I  can't  bear  cabbages." 

"Yes,  that  is  possible,"  said  the  Miller. 

"But  maybe  they  weren't  after  cows  at  all," 
Friedrich  went  on  after  a  short  pause.  "They  were 
a  couple  of  your  mounted  Gensdarmes,  and  they  are 
no  doubt  looking  for  something  very  different.  I 
think  it's  a  mercy  we  are  not  at  the  mill,  for  — 
Miller,  we  must  look  out  —  they  are  after  the 
Frenchman  or  perhaps  after  you.  Who  knows  what 
has  happened  in  Stemhagen.  Something  may  have 
come  out.  Perhaps  Fieka  was  right  after  all.  I 
should  be  glad  myself  now,  if  we  had  the  French- 
man with  us." 

"That's  what  I  said,  that's  what  I  said,"  cried 
the  Miller. 

"Hm,"  said  Friedrich,  "he  lay  here,  and  he's 
got  up,  and  he  has  gone  down  here,  these  are  his 
marks  in  the  mudj  and  look  —  he  has  dragged  the 
straw  along  with  him  a  little  way,  and  he's  gone 
towards  Gulzow.  Now,  I'll  bring  you  back  the 
horse,  and  then  you  can  drive  to  the  bailiwick  and 
deliver  up  bag  and  horse  together,  and  I  will  go 
after  the  Frenchman  and  stop  him." 

So  the  horse  was  fastened  to  the  waggon  once 
more,  and  Friedrich  started  off  towards  Gulzow,  and 
said  to  himself: 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  69 

"Dumouriez!  I've  brouglit  the  Miller  into  a 
pretty  mess,  and  our  Fieka  is,  after  all,  a  clever 
girl.  But  if  tlie  Frenchman  is  to  be  found  between 
here  and  Gripswald,  I'll  find  him." 

The  Miller  drove  towards  Stemhagen.  "Lord 
of  my  life!"  he  said,  "If  it  had  not  been  for  my 
little  Fieka,  most  likely  I  should  be  sitting  in  irons 
now.  And  I'm  many  miles  from  safe  yet,  for  the 
devil's  only  just  beginning  his  work. —  It's  raining, 
too,  and  pretty  heavily!" 

The  first  person  he  met  when  he  reached  the 
Stemhagen  Bams  was  Witte,  the  baker,  standing 
before  his  barn  by  a  waggon  of  straw: 

"Good  morning,  neighbour,"  said  Witte.  "What 
the  thunder!  How  came  you  by  that  French  horse?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  replied  Miller  Voss;  and 
he  briefly  narrated  the  story. 

"That's  ugly,"  said  the  baker,  "for  the  whole 
town  is  filled  with  French,  and  you  couldn't  get 
the  horse  through  without  being  seen.  I  advise  you 
to  leave  him  here  in  my  empty  barn." 

This  was  done.  Old  Baker  Witte  drew  his 
crooked  brass  comb  through  his  hair  several  times, 
shook  his  head  and  said: 

"Neighbour,  you  have  let  yourself  in  for  a 
scrape  you  won't  get  out  of  easily,  and  up  at  the 
Schloss  things  don't  seem  to  be  quite  right;  for  this 


70  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

morning  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  sent  for  the  roll 
he  takes  with  his  coffee,  at  eight  o'clock  instead  of 
eleven.  And  Fritz  Sahlmann  says  Mamsell  West- 
phalen  has  disappeared  —  not  a  soul  knows  where 
she  is  to  he  found  —  and  the  watchmaker  has  been 
thrown  into  prison  —  that  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes; 
and  people  are  talking  about  court-martials  and 
executions." 

''Lord,  save  us!"  cried  the  old  Miller.  "What 
a  swarm  of  bees  I  have  sat  down  on!  But  it  can't 
be  helped;  I  must  take  the  bag  up  to  the  Schloss. 
And,  neighbour,  I'll  drive  round  the  town  till  I  get 
near  the  green  gate  of  the  Schloss  garden,  and  then 
I'll  fasten  up  my  horse.  You  follow  to  take  care 
of  him  and  the  cart,  and  if  I  am  carried  off  to 
prison,  drive  over  to  the  mill  and  break  the  news 
gently  to  my  wife  and  Fieka;  and  tell  the  young 
man  you'll  find  there  to  do  his  uncle  the  favour  of 
looking  after  the  house  and  mill,  and  not  to  leave 
the  women." 

Baker  Witte  promised,  and  the  Miller  drove 
round,  as  they  had  agreed,  tied  up  his  horse,  and 
was  proceeding  on  his  way  on  foot,  when  Farmer 
Eoggenbom's  waggoner,  Johann  Brummer,  dashed 
through  the  gate,  lashing  his  four  greys  till  they 
struck  out  behind  and  bespattered  the  Miller  with 
mud. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  71 


m 

HP  "Better  mud  in  my  face  than  your  lashes  across 
the  back,"  cried  the  Miller. 

"Hmm!  It  only  wanted  this.  Robbers!"  grum- 
bled old  Zanner  of  Gielow,  as  he  drove  full  gallop 
with  his  cream-coloured  horses  through  the  gate  after 
Brummer. 

"Yes,"  said  Adler  of  Stemhagen ,  who  had  thrown 
a  sack  over  his  shoulders  (the  only  waterproof  coats 
known  in  those  days),  giving  his  black  saddle-horse 
a  dig  in  the  ribs;  "it  would  be  nice  work  for  us  to 
be  drawing  cannons,  wouldn't  it,  old  fellow?  No! 
I'll  take  you  to  the  Stemhagen  wood,  and  fasten 
you  to  a  tree  by  the  sand-pit.  It's  all  one  here  or 
there,  for  there's  nothing  at  home  for  you  to  eat  — 
confound  it,  how  it's  raining!" 

When  the  Miller  entered  the  garden,  he  found 
it  all  alive  —  peasants  hustling  and  bustling  about, 
hiding  their  carts  and  waggons,  some  behind  the 
bushes  and  some  behind  the  ramparts. 

"Miller  Voss,"  said  the  son  of  the  Schult  Besser- 
dich  of  Gielow,  "hide  your  horse.  Everyone  who 
is  wise  is  taking  advantage  of  this  rain,  for  the 
French  have  all  crept  under  cover." 

But  the  old  Miller  went  steadily  on,  and  took 
the  valise  to  the  Schloss. 


72  IN  THE  YEAR  '13.' 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  sight  which  metMamsellWestphalen's  eyes  when  she  went  into  her 
room;  and  the  reason  why  she  let  Corlin  slap  her  twice  on  the 
back.  How  Fritz  Sahlmanu  smashed  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann's 
pipes ,  and  the  French  Colonel  nearly  drew  his  sword. 

If  you  wish  to  tell  a  story  properly,  you  must 
do  as  the  husbandman  does  when  he  tills  a  field:  you 
must  keep  the  furrows  straight,  clearing  everything 
as  you  go  along,  and  leaving  no  stubble  standing. 
But  do  this  as  carefully  as  you  may,  there  will 
always  be  some  few  bits  left  untouched  here  and 
there,  and  you  must  go  back  and  finish  them  off. 
Even  so  must  I  go  back  a  little  way  in  my  story 
to  finish  off  Herr  Droi's  and  Mamsell  Westphalen's 
ends,  that  I  may  be  able  once  more  to  work 
straight  on. 

On  the  same  morning  that  the  Miller,  with  his 
headache,  looked  into  his  boot-tops,  Mamsell  West- 
phalen  dressed  herself,  and  was  just  going  to  put 
on  her  cap,  when  she  saw  it  was  rather  out  of 
shape  *,  so  she  went  into  her  room  to  get  a  fresh  one, 
but  tapped  first  at  the  door  and  asked,  "Herr  Droi, 
are  you  quite  dressed?''      The  watchmaker  said  he 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  ,73 

was.  She  opened  the  door  —  merciful  heavens, 
what  a  sight!  Anything  like  it  she  had  never  seen 
in  her  life;  for  in  the  night  she  had  only  been  as 
far  as  the  door,  and  had  not  even  glanced  into  the 
room.  The  top  of  the  bed  was  broken  in,  and  right 
5^^„^^3g^oss  the  door  lay  one  of  the  Frenchmen  rolled  up 
in  the  white  bed-curtains,  and  smoking  a  clay  pipe, 
with  her  beautiful  red-and- white-striped  pillow  under 
his  head;  the  other  was  sitting  in  her  easy  chair, 
and  had  wrapped  his  feet  up  in  her  new  gingham 
gown;  Herr  Droi  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
from  under  his  bearskin  peered  a  face  that  spoke 
only  of  sorrow  and  woe.  What  a  sight  her  poor 
room  was!  It  had  been  her  pride,  her  jewel-box; 
here  she  had  reigned  supreme;  here  she  had  sat 
with  everything  round  her  clean  and  in  order.  She 
had  dusted  and  polished  everything  with  her  own 
hands.  No  one  else  had  dared  to  touch  or  alter 
anything  —  not  even  her  oracle  the  Frau  Meister. 
"No,"  she  had  said,  "the  Frau  Meister  is  all  very 
well  in  her  way,  but  since  she  let  my  amber  ear- 
rings fall,  I  cannot  trust  her  any  more." 

And  now  everything  was  turned  upside  down, 
the  room  was  blue  with  tobacco-smoke,  her  clothes 
had  been  taken  out  of  the  closet  and  were  lying 
beside  Herr  Droi's  gun,  and  the  French  Chasseur's 
helmet;  and  her  bed  —  her  beautiful  bed  —  stood 


74  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

out  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  The  bed  was  her 
own;  her  godfather,  the  joiner  Reuss  (the  old  Reuss, 
not  the  young  one)  had  made  it  for  her  from  the 
same  block  of  wood  from  which  he  made  her  coffin; 
she  had  spun  the  yarn  for  the  sacking  herself,  and 
the  Meister  Stahl  had  woven  it  "pretty  well,"  she 
said,  "but  two  inches  too  small  each  way,  and 
that  was  stupid  of  him,  for  I  am  a  well-grown 
woman,  and  that  he  might  have  known."  TheFrau 
Amtshauptmann  had  wished  to  make  her  a  present 
of  the  feathers ,  but  she  had  not  accepted  the  offer, 
and  had  paid  for  them  herself;  "for,  Frau  Meister," 
she  said,  "it's  my  pride  to  earn  my  earthly  and  my 
heavenly  rest."  And  when  the  bed  was  so  far  on, 
she  bought  two  sets  of  snow-white  curtains,  and  put 
them  up ,  and  then  she  drew  back  a  few  paces ,  and, 
nodding  her  head  complacently,  said,  " Frau  Meister, 
*the  last  touch  crowns  the  work.'"  And  now  the 
bedding  lay  scattered  about  in  disorder,  and  the 
crown  lay  levelled  in  the  dust. 

At  first  she  stood  as  if  thunderstruck,  and  looked 
through  the  tobacco-smoke  like  the  full  moon  through 
the  evening  mist;  then  she  advanced  a  couple  of 
paces  towards  Herr  Droi,  her  face  as  red  as  the 
inside  of  the  great  copper  washing-kettle  in  her 
kitchen,  and  her  cap  shaking  with  anger;  but  she 
merely  said,   "What's  this?"      Herr  Droi  stuttered 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  75 

and  stammered,  and  stammered  and  stuttered;  but, 
looking  him  sharply  in  the  face,  she  said,  "Lies, 
Herr  Droi.  You  lied  last  night,  and  you  are  lying 
again  this  morning.  I  gave  up  my  room  and  my 
own  bed  to  you  out  of  pity,  and  this  is  the  thanks 
I  get."  So  saying,  she  went  to  her  chest  of  drawers, 
and  took  out  a  clean  cap ,  and  then ,  without  casting 
another  glance  at  Herr  Droi,  she  sailed  out  of  the 
room  like  Innocence  going  to  the  block.  The  two 
Frenchmen  laughed  and  joked,  but  she  paid  no  heed 
to  them. 

As  she  passed  down  the  corridor,  the  Colonel 
stepped  out  of  the  blue  room  in  full  uniform,  with 
his  adjutant,  and  made  her  a  polite  bow.  She  was 
not  exactly  in  the  mood  for  civilities,  but  if  you  are 
asked  a  question  you  must  give  an  answer;  and, 
besides,  man  is  a  creature  that  must  have  his 
sausages  cooked,  so  she  answered  him  with  a  low 
curtsey,  "Good  morning,  Herr  Colonel  von  Toll," 
and  walked  on. 

But  the  Colonel  stopped  her.  "I  beg  your  par- 
don," he  said,  "but  I  must  speak  to  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann.  Where  shall  I  be  likely  to  find 
him?" 

Mamsell  Westphalen  felt  as  if  she  should  go 
into  a  fit.  "  WTiat  do  you  want?"  she  agked,  quite 
dumbfoundered. 


76  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

The  Frenchman  repeats  his  question. 

"Is  it  possible,"  exclaims  she,  "that  you  want 
to  speak  to  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  —  (mr  Herr 
Amtshauptmann  at  half-past  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning?" 

Finding  he  was  not  to  be  shaken,  she  said: 
"Herr  Colonel  von  Toll,  everything  was  turned 
topsy-turvy  in  my  room  last  night.  Unfortunately 
I  must  put  up  with  it  as  well  as  I  can,  but  no  one 
shall  ever  say  of  me  that  I  lent  a  hand  to  overturn 
the  laws  of  nature.  And,  though  it's  no  Christian 
sleep  that  the  old  gentleman  takes,  still  he  is  a 
gentleman,  and  can  sleep  like  a  gentleman,  and  do 
as  he  pleases.  No  king,  no  emperor  —  no,  Tiot  even 
our  Duke  Friedrich  Franz  himself  shall  drag  me  into 
a  conspiracy  against  the  laws  of  this  house." 

"Then  I  will  do  it  myself,"  said  the  colonel, 
and  politely  put  her  on  one  side  and  went  up-stairs. 

"Lord,  save  us!"  said  Mamsell^  and  her  hands 
fell  down  helplessly  by  her  side.  "I  do  believe  he'll 
do  it-,"  and  when  she  heard  him  go  into  the  old 
Herr's  room,  "He  has!"  said  she. 

The  adjutant  went  into  her  room  to  Herr  Droi. 
"You  long-legged  donkey!"  thought  Mamsell  West- 
phalen,  "Must  you  poke  yourself  in  there  too;"  and 
she  went  into  the  kitchen  and  said  to  the  two  maids, 
"Corlin  andHanchen,  this  God-given  day  has  begun 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  77 

badly;  and  if  it  goes  on  so,  Heaven  only  knows 
how  it  will  end.  We  will  put  the  clothes  in  soak 
to-morrow  —  I  have  my  reasons  for  it;  to-day  well 
go  about  our  work  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened." 

And,  so  saying,  she  took  the  coffee-mill  and 
turned  and  turned,  and  the  mill  rattled  and  rattled; 
but  when  she  came  to  take  the  drawer  out,  there 
was  nothing  in  it;  for  she  had  forgotten  to  pour  any 
coffee-beans  in  at  the  top. 

Up  stairs,  in  the  old  Herr's  room,  the  sound  of 
loud  talking  was  now  heard,  and  that  silly  boy, 
Fritz  Sahlmann,  who  was  filling  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann's  long  pipes,  must  of  course  want  to  tell  them 
what  was  going  on,  and  rushed  in  at  the  kitchen- 
door  with  the  pipes  in  his  hand;  but  Hanchen  had 
that  moment  put  her  ear  against  the  door-post  to 
hear  a  little  of  what  was  being  said,  and  —  bang! 
he  went  up  against  her,  and  —  smash!  went  the 
pipes  as  they  fell  clattering  on  the  floor.  Mamsell 
Westphalen's  hand  was  not  raised  this  time;  her 
hands  lay  on  her  lap,  and  she  said  meekly: 

*'It's  not  to  be  wondered  at!  If  everything  is 
going  to  rack  and  ruin,  of  course  clay  pipes  will  be 
amongst  the  first;  and  *if  the  heavens  fall  the  spar- 
rows will  all  be  crushed!'  It  would  not  surprise  me 
now  if  some  one  were  to  come  in  and  throw  the 
whole  of  the  crockery  out  at  the  window," 


78  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

The  quarrel  upstairs  became  louder;  the  voices 
resounded  over  the  house  and  the  Amtshauptmann 
came  down  stairs  into  the  hall  with  the  Colonel. 

The  old  Herr  said,  in  short,  sharp  sentences, 
that  he  must  allow  what  he  could  not  prevent.  The 
Frenchman  must  do  as  he  chose,  for  the  power  was 
in  his  hands. 

The  Colonel  said  he  knew  that.  But  before  he 
made  use  of  his  power  he  should  inquire  into  things, 
for  there  could  be  no  doubt  events  had  happened 
which  there  was  an  attempt  to  conceal. 

Se  had  nothing  to  conceal,  the  old  Amtshaupt- 
mann said.  If  there  was  anything  to  be  concealed 
it  was  on  the  part  of  the  French.  And  was  a  vaga- 
bond like  the  Chasseur  really  held  in  such  high 
esteem  and  regard  by  them?  For  his  own  part,  he 
knew  nothing  further  than  that  the  fellow  had  come 
to  him  like  a  robber,  had  behaved  like  a  pig,  and 
that  his  servants  and  the  watchmaker  Droz  had 
told  him  the  Gielow  Miller  had  taken  him  away  in 
his  waggon. 

But  where  did  the  watchmaker  get  his  French 
uniform  from,  the  Colonel  asked? 

That  did  not  concern  him,  was  the  old  Herr's 
reply;  the  man  was  not  in  his  district.  He  had, 
however,  heard  it  said,  that  the  fellow  sometimes 
put  the  uniform  on  for  his  amusement. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  79 

The  Colonel  said  those  were  merely  excuses. 

At  that  the  old  Herr  fired  up,  and  drawing  him- 
self to  his  full  height,  he  looked  in  his  dignified 
way  at  the  Frenchman,  and  said  —  "Excuses  are 
the  cousins  of  lies.     You  forget  my  age  and  rank." 

The  Colonel  became  more  violent,  and  said: 
"In  short,  the  whole  story  is  incredible." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  the  Amtshauptmann ,  and 
from  under  his  grey  eyebrows  there  shot  a  look 
full  of  scorn  and  anger,  like  a  flash  of  lightning 
darting  from  out  of  a  cloud  over  a  peaceful  land- 
scape. "You  think  it  is  incredible?"  —  And  he  half 
turned  his  back  upon  the  Colonel.  —  "Why  mayn't 
a  Frenchman  wear  the  French  uniform  for  his  plea- 
sure when  so  many  Germans  wear  it  for  theirs?" 
he  added,  looking  over  his  shoulder  at  Colonel  von 
Toll. 

The  Frenchman  turned  red  as  fire,  then  pale  as 
death;  he  stepped  back  a  couple  of  paces  and 
clutched  at  his  sword.  The  ghost  of  a  fearful  deed 
haunted  him  for  a  moment  and  guided  his  hand; 
but,  overcoming  the  dark  thought,  he  turned  hastily 
round  and  went  with  long  strides  down  the  hall, 
and  Hanchen,  who  saw  it  all  through  a  chink  in  the 
door,  said,  ever  after,  that  she  had  never  in  her  life 
seen  anything  like  it.  "He  was  a  handsome  man, 
and  had  a  pleasant  face,"  she  would  add,  "but  when 


80  IN   THE   YEAR  '13. 

he  came  striding  down  the  hall,  I  don't  know  why, 
but  it  reminded  me  of  how  once ,  when  I  was  herd- 
ing geese,  on  a  fine  day  in  the  middle  of  summer, 
suddenly  there  came  a  fierce  wind,  and  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  all  the  leaves  were  blown  off 
from  the  beautiful  oak  at  the  back  of  the  Convent 
garden  and  were  flying  about." 

The  Colonel  turned  round  again,  went  up  to  the 
Amtshauptmann,  and  said  in  a  quiet  cold  voice,  that 
they  would  discuss  the  point  at  a  future  time;  but 
his  duty  required  that  the  matter  should  be  probed 
to  the  bottom  without  delay.  "Why  had  the  watch- 
maker slept  at  the  Schloss  last  night?" 

"He  did  not  sleep  here,"  said  the  old  Herr. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Colonel,  "he  did  sleep  here,  he 
slept  in  that  room,"  and  he  pointed  to  Mamsell 
Westphalen's  room. 

"Impossible,"  cried  the  old  Herr,  raising  his 
voice  as  if  to  defend  Innocence  before  the  whole 
world,  "that's  Mamsell  Westphalen's  room.  She  has 
been  in  my  house  twenty  years,  and  do  you  mean 
to  say  she  would  let  a  man  be  in  her  room?" 

"Corlin;"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen  in  the 
kitchen,  "give  me  a  couple  of  blows  in  the  neck,  for 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  going  to  faint*,  and  my  head 
swims  round." 

The    Colonel  threw  open  the  door,    and  there 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  81 

stood  the  watchmaker  before  them.  The  adjutant 
had  just  been  examining  him ,  and  he  had  told  the 
adjutant  everything  —  except  the  truth. 

The  old  Amtshauptmann  was  quite  aghast  when 
he  saw  the  watchmaker  before  him.  "This  is  in- 
explicable!" he  cried. 

The  Colonel  laughed  scornfully,  and  said  he 
hoped  it  would  not  long  remain  inexplicable;  then 
he  whispered  a  few  words  to  the  adjutant  and  asked 
for  the  keys  of  the  state  prison. 

"I  cannot  give  them  out  for  this  prisoner,"  said 
the  Amtshauptmann,  "for  he  has  no  right  to  the 
state  prison;  he  is  a  citizen  and  must  go  to  the  town 
gaol." 

"So  much  the  better,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
"for  there  will  be  less  opportunity  there  for  coiji- 
nivance." 

So  Herr  Droi  was  marched  off  between  a  couple 
of  soldiers  —  for  gradually  the  courtyard  had  got 
filled  with  French  —  and  was  transported  to  the 
Rathhaus. 

The  Colonel  also  went;  but,  when  he  reached 
the  door,  he  turned  round  and  said  that,  strictly  ac- 
cording to  duty,  he  ought  to  have  the  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann arrested,  but  because  the  Herr  was 
an  old  man,  and  more  especially  because  of  the 
hard  words  he  had  used,  he  should  be  left  in  peace. 

Jn  the  Tear  'iS,  6 


82  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

The  Colonel  would  keep  himself  clear  from  the 
slightest  suspicion  of  having  wished  to  revenge  him- 
self for  those  bitter  words ;  but  if  the  presence  of  the 
Amtshauptmann  or  Mamsell  Westphalen  were  neces- 
sary at  the  examination,  they  must  come  before  him. 
The  old  Herr  coldly  acquiesced,  and  the  Colonel 
went,  but  ordered  a  couple  of  gensdarmes  off  to  the 
Gielow  Mill,  and  looked  sharply  at  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann as  he  gave  the  order. 

When  they  were  gone,  the  old  Herr  went  to- 
wards the  kitchen,  and  Hanchen  started  back  from 
her  chink  in  the  door,  for  she  thought  her  master 
was  coming  in.  But  all  at  once  he  stood  still, 
turned  round  and  said  to  himself:  "Wliat  did  the 
fellow  say  about  *  connivance'  and  *  keeping  himself 
clear  of  any  appearance  of  revenge.'  What  a  French 
Colonel  can  only  talk  about,  the  Amtshauptmann 
Weber  can  surely  do.  I  too  will  keep  my  name 
clear.  There  shall  be  no  appearance  of  con- 
nivance on  my  part."    And  he  went  into  his  room. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  83 


CHAPTER  VII. 


My  uncle  Herse ,  what  he  was  and  what  he  did ;  and  why  Fritz  Sahl- 
mann  had  to  whistle. 


When  the  watchmaker  was  led  ofP  to  prison, 
Fritz  Sahlmann  must  of  necessity  go  too,  merely  to 
see  what  would  happen  to  the  prisoner,  and  whether 
he  would  escape;  but,  in  this  last  he  was  disap- 
pointed. The  procession  moved  but  slowly  down  to 
the  Rathhaus,  for  they  had  to  wind  their  way  through 
all  the  carts  and  waggons  which  had  been  ordered 
up  from  the  town  and  neighbouring  villages  for  the 
transport  of  the  baggage  and  cannon,  and  were  now 
collected  in  the  courtyard  and  along  the  road  lead- 
ing to  the  Schloss.  They  were  surrounded  by 
French  soldiers,  that  they  might  not  escape,  for  our 
old  peasants  had  got  wonderfully  clever  at  that.  The 
watchmaker  marched  along  with  his  two  guards, 
through  the  crowd,  as  quiet  and  patient  as  a  lamb; 
for  though  at  first  he  had  been  dreadfully  frightened, 
and  though  the  affair  of  last  night  looked  decidedly 
awkward,  yet  during  the  interview  with  the  ad- 
jutant, he  had  fallen  into  a  state  of  apathy,  in  which 

6* 


84  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

he  had  seemed  to  say  —  "Talk  away  as  long  as 
you  like;  you  may  go  on  talking  all  day  for  what  I 
care,"  and  his  answers  had  been  few  and  far  be- 
tween. And,  though  he  was  not  one  of  those  wild 
spirits  that  fly  at  once  at  everything,  he  had  been 
too  long  in  the  world,  and  had  been  in  too  many 
scrapes  before,  to  lose  heart  immediately  now.  He 
made  up  his  mind  for  whatever  might  come. 
"What's  to  be  the  end  of  this  I  wonder?"  he 
thought,  as  he  was  pushed  in  at  the  Eathhaus 
door. 

"Fritz  Sahlmann,"  said  Rathsherr  Herse,  as  the 
boy  was  about  to  return  to  the  Schloss,  "what's  the 
meaning  of  this?" 

Fritz  now  related  with  immense  importance  all 
that  had  taken  place  yesterday;  how  Droz  had  slept 
in  Mamsell  Westphalen's  room  and  turned  every- 
thing upside  down;  and  how  he  himself  had  smashed 
the  Herr  Amtshauptmann's  pipes  —  he  couldn't  help 
it,  though  —  it  was  Hanchen's  fault;  —  and  how  the 
Colonel  had  been  going  to  run  the  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann  through  the  body  with  his  sword;  and 
how  Mamsell  Westphalen  was  sitting  in  the  kitchen, 
like  a  picture  of  woe.  But  he  said  nothing  about 
the  lump  of  ice. 

Now,  my  uncle,  the  Rathsherr  Herse,  was  an 
ardent  patriot,    but  he  kept  it  a  profound   secret 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  85 

And  he  had  his  reasons.  For,  as  he  whispered  to 
me  many  years  afterwards  when  Buonaparte  had 
long  been  dead,  he  belonged  at  this  time  to  the  se- 
cret society  of  the  *'Tugendbund."  And  I  can  be- 
lieve it,  for  when  he  was  in  company  he  was  always 
playing  with  a  long  watch-chain  made  of  light- 
coloured  hair  —  and  Aunt  Herse's  was  black  — 
and  he  wore  a  large  dangerous-looking  iron  ring  on 
his  finger,  with  which  he  once  struck  Hopner  the 
locksmith^s  apprentice  nearly  dead,  when  he  was 
behaving  rudely  in  court.  "Fritz,"  he  said  to  me 
later  on,  "this  light  hair  is  that  of  an  heroic  virgin 
who  had  her  head  shaven  for  the  Fatherland  in  the 
year  thirteen,  and  the  iron  ring  cost  me  my  gold 
one.  But  don't  talk  of  it-,  I  don't  like  it  spoken 
about."  He  was  rightly  therefore  much  given  to 
secrets  about  the  time  of  this  story. 

And  it  is  possible,  too,  that  his  habit  of  looking 
at  life  from  a  commanding  point  of  view  and  seiz- 
ing everything  as  a  whole  without  regard  to  details 
had  something  to  do  with  his  secret  brotherhood,  for 
while  my  Father  had  to  plague  himself  day  and 
night  with  the  smallest  squabbles  and  quarrels,  in 
order  that  the  government  of  the  little  town  might 
not  lose  what  small  amount  of  life  it  had,  Rathsherr 
Herse  commanded  Kutusoff  to  march  to  the  right 
and  Czernitcheff  to  the  left,   and  praised  York,   and 


86  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

blamed  Biilow  because  he  didn't  understand  his 
business,  for  he  ought  not  to  have  gone  to  Berlin, 
he  ought  to  have  marched  to  the  right  of  Stem- 
liagen  and  fallen  on  Buonaparte's  flank.  —  In  short 
Uncle  Herse  was  just  the  man  to  make  a  thunder- 
storm out  of  a  sunshower.  In  every  innocent  French 
corporal  he  saw  the  Corsican  monster,  and  if  Luth, 
the  Town  Messenger,  happened  to  get  a  blow  in  a 
peasants'  row  on  Blue  Monday,  he  made  as  much 
fuss  as  if  the  Duke  of  Mecklenburg  himself  had 
been  struck. 

"Hold  your  tongue,  boy,"  he  whispered  impres- 
sively. "Do  you  want  to  scream  out  your  sentence 
of  death  in  the  public  market-place!  I  wouldn't  give 
a  groschen  for  the  watchmaker's  chance  of  life,  for 
it  is  certain  that  the  Miller  and  his  Friedrich  have 
murdered  the  French  Chasseur." 

"Not  the  Miller,"  interrupted  Fritz,  "the  Miller 
was  made  up  of  brandy  and  good-nature  yester- 
day." 

"Well,  then,  his  Friedrich  has.  He's  a  Prus- 
sian. Do  you  know  what  a  Prussian  is?  Do  you 
know   what   the  meaning  of  Prussian  is?     Do  you 

know ?     Blockhead!     What  are  you  staring 

at  me  for?  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  tell  you  all 
my  secrets?  But  what  I  was  going  to  say  is  — 
they'll  send  the  old  Amtshauptmann  to  Bayonne  in 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  87 

France,  where  they  also  sent  Graf  Ivenacker's 
white  horse,  Herodotu3*,  and  Mamsell  Westphalen — 
as  far  as  I  know  the  French  laws  —  will  simply  be 
strung  up,  and  you,  my  lad,  will  get  a  good  flogging 
for  coming  down  here.'* 

Fritz  Sahlmann  now  saw  a  sad  prospect  before 
him,  and  made  a  wry  face  accordingly.  — 

"But,  Herr  Rathsherr,  not  in  a  public  place?" 
he  asked. 

*' Wherever  they  can  catch  you.  Though,  if  the 
matter  is  taken  up  in  the  proper  quarters,  every- 
thing may  still  be  made  right.  —  Can  you  be 
silent?'' 

Fritz  Sahlmann  replied  that  he  could  be  most 
modestly  silent. 

"Well,  then,  come  here,  and  put  both  your  hands 
in  your  trowsers'  pockets,  and  whistle.  That's  it. 
And  now  look  quite  unconcerned  as  you  do  in  sum- 
mer time  when  you  are  knocking  down  the  apples 
from  the  tree  in  the  Schlossgarden,  and  you  see 
Mamsell  Westphalen  coming.  Yes  that's  right.  And 
now,  observe  every  word  that  I  say,  go  with  this 
face  and  with  this  look  of  child -like  innocence 
through  the  French  and  peasants  up  to  the  Schloss 
into  the  kitchen,  and  take  Mamsell  Westphalen  aside 
into  a  corner  and  then  say  to  her  just  these  words 
—  ^hel/p  is  near.''      If  she  is  not  satisfied  with  this 


88  IN  THE  YEAR  *13. 

you  can  break  to  her  gently  what  I  have  told  you 
about  hanging,  and,  if  she's  at  all  frightened  at  that, 
say  she  is  to  keep  up  her  heart,  for  I,  Rathsherr 
Herse,  have  taken  the  matter  in  hand.  But  first  of 
all,  she  must  at  once  shut  and  bolt  the  kitchen-door 
and  the  back-door  leading  to  the  garden,  and  she 
and  the  two  maids  and  you  must  each  arm  your- 
selves with  weapons,  and  on  no  account  let  any 
Frenchman  in,  and  you  must  defend  yourselves  to 
the  last  man  till  I  come.  I  will  go  at  once  and  will 
come  through  the  Schlossgarden  to  the  back-door  — 
I'll  only  get  my  cloak  first  for  it's  raining  desper- 
ately, and  my  pass-word  will  be  ''AlVs  welV  and  my 
war-cry  'York.'  But  no!  She  won't  understand  that. 
What  do  you  say?  It's  all  the  same  —  it's  all  the 
same.  Well,  my  war-cry  will  be  'Pickled  pork.' 
She'll  understand  that.  So  when  some  one  comes, 
and  calls  it  out,  she  is  to  open  the  back-door.  Have 
you  understood  it  all?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Rathsherr." 

"Well,  then,  now  be  off;  and  don't  let  anyone, 
—  not  even  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  —  know  a 
word  about  it." 

Fritz  went,  and  the  Rathsherr  too. 

My  uncle  Herse  had,  of  course,  had  the  blue 
Rathsherr  uniform  with  red  and  gold  collar  made,  as 
soon  as  he  had  become  Rathsherr;  and,  as  he  was  a 


IN  THE  YEAR  *13.  89 

fine,  tall  man  he  was  very  fond  of  putting  it  on,  in 
order  to  command  proper  respect,  whenever  an  op- 
portunity presented  itself,  such  as,  for  example,  when 
the  fire-engines  were  to  be  tried,  or  when  the  cows 
were  first  driven  to  pasture  in  the  spring,  or  foreign 
troops  were  quartered  in  the  town.  Then,  too,  when 
my  father  was  sitting  in  his  grey  coat  at  the  court 
table  writing  till  his  fingers  ached,  Rathsherr  Herse 
would  march  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  table, 
keeping  up  the  official  pomp  and  dignity  by  the 
splendour  of  his  appearance,  and  it  pleased  him 
mightily  when  a  Frenchman  by  mistake  addressed 
him  as  "Monsieur  le  Maire."  My  father  had  nothing 
to  say  against  this,  for  there  was  generally  a  good 
deal  of  disputing  to  be  done,  and  he  gave  this  over, 
with  the  pomp  and  dignity,  to  the  Rathsherr,  taking 
the  real  business  upon  himself  In  this  way,  they 
had  divided  the  work  fairly  between  them,  and  what 
with  Rathsherr  Susemihl,  who  on  days  when  the 
court  was  sitting  performed  the  onerous  duty  of 
assessor,  and  what  with  the  zeal  of  Dohmstreich  the 
Recorder,  and  the  exertions  of  Luth  the  Town 
Messenger,  and  the  firemen  who  every  month  took 
out  their  engines  to  try  them,  and  Panner  Hirsch, 
who  used  to  drive  the  boys  out  of  the  peas-fields,  I 
should  like  to  know  where  you  could  have  found  a 
town  or  parish  in  better  trim  than  my  native  town 


90  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

of  Stemhagen.  And  all  because  my  uncle  Herse  was 
fond  of  wearing  his  uniform! 

WHen  my  uncle  Herse  reached  home,  he  looked  in 
his  clothes-closet  for  his  grey  cloak,  —  for  it  was  still 
pouring  with  rain,  —  and  he  caught  sight  of  his 
uniform.  "Ah,"  thought  he,  "now,  to-day  will  be  a 
good  opportunity  for  me  to  put  it  on;  and,  who 
knows,  perhaps  it  may  be  of  use  in  this  enterprise." 
So  he  put  it  on,  and  also  the  fine  cocked  hat  that 
we  boys  used  afterwards  to  make  a  boat  of  and  sail 
on  old  Nahmaker's  pond.  At  this  time  it  was  in 
its  best  days,  and,  as  the  Rathsherr  stepped  out  at 
the  door,  he  drew  the  cape  of  his  cloak  over  it  so 
that  it  should  not  get  wet-,  and  then  he  looked  like 
a  French  General  when  he  reconnoitres  the  enemy's 
post  by  night.  "Well,"  he  said,  "no  one  will  know 
me  now." 

He  went  across  the  market-place,  and  then  by 
a  little  roundabout  way  across  the  timber  yard, 
where  Farmer  Nahmaker  was  looking  after  his  horses, 
which  the  French  had  taken  out  of  the  stable  and 
were  now  driving  away. 

"  Good  morning,  Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  the  farmer, 
"what  times  these  are!" 

"Hush!"  said  my  uncle  and  went  on. 

Behind  the  timber-yard  barns,  Swerdfeger,  the 
joiner,  met  him. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  91 

morning,  Herr  Rathsherr.'^ 
your  tongue!"    said    my   uncle   angrily, 
and  went  round  outside  the  Schlossgarden. 

"Good  morning,  Herr  Ratlislierr,"  said  the  son 
of  old  HarlofF  the  actor. 

Smack!  The  boy  had  a  blow  with  the  back  of 
the  hand  on  his  mouth.  "Blockhead!  Don't  you 
see  that  I  do  not  wish  to  be  known?" 

So  saying,  he  entered  theSchloss-garden  and  said 
angrily:  "The  devil  take  it!  A  public  position  lies 
on  one  as  heavy  as  a  curse." 


92  IN  THE  YEAR  *13. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

How  my  uncle  Herse  came  with  pass-word  and  war-cry;  and  Mamsell 
Westphalen  refused  to  hide  in  the  peat  bog.  How  the  Herr  Raths- 
herr  got  into  Miller's  cart,  and  how  he  got  out  of  it  again. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Fritz  Sahlmann  had  made  his 
way  to  the  Schloss  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
whistling,  with  an  unconcerned  face,  as  directed  by 
the  Rathsherr-,  but,  when  he  came  into  the  kitchen, 
he  forgot  his  orders  and  made  a  face  like  Balaam's 
when  his  ass  began  to  speak,  and  he  stammered  into 
Mamsell  Westphalen's  ear,  — 

"Oh!  I'm  to  say  there's  help  near." 

"Boy!  Fritz  Sahlmann,"  cried  Mamsell  West- 
phalen, "what  is  this?  What  do  you  mean?  What 
do  you  mean  I  say?" 

Fritz  now  told  her  what  she  was  to  do;  that  she 
was  to  hold  out  the  kitchen  to  the  last  man  and  let 
no  Frenchman  in,  and  that  Rathsherr  Herse  would 
come  with  pass-word  and  war-cry  and  take  the  com- 
mand. 

"Heavens!  What  shall  I  do?"  exclaimed  Mamsell 
Westphalen,  "I  can't  let  myself  be  seen  by  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann  after  what  has  passed.   Well,  I  sup- 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  93 

pose  I  had  best  trust  to  the  Herr  RathsheiT  and 
follow  his  counsel;  it  must  be  right,  for  else  what 
would  be  the  good  of  his  being  a  councillor.  Hanchen 
and  Corlin,  you  look  after  the  back-door,  Fritz  Sahl- 
mann  and  I  will  take  the  front.  Now,  mind,  and 
be  sure  you  don't  miss  the  war-cry." 

The  doors  were  locked;  Hanchen  armed  herself 
with  a  broom,  Corlin  with  a  poker,  Fritz  Sahlmann 
with  a  long  brass  ladle;  and  Mamsell  Westphalen 
took  up  a  pestle;  but  she  quickly  let  it  drop  again, 
exclaiming  — 

"No,  merciful  heavens!  I  have  done  enough 
liarm  already  without  slaying  and  killing  besides. 
No,  I  know  what  will  do  better;"  and  she  fetched 
the  box  in  which  the  peat-ashes  were  carried  away, 
and  set  it  down  before  her  on  the  table  —  from  this 
point  she  could  command  both  front  and  back-doors. 
—  "Now  let  them  come  when  they  like,"  she  said, 
"but  whoever  gets  a  volley  in  the  face  from  me  may 
rub  his  eyes  for  a  long  time  before  he'll  be  able  to 
see  again." 

It  was  not  long  before  they  heard  a  voice  at  the 
back-door  crying:  "All's  well;"  and  presently  the 
same  voice  said  half  aloud  through  the  keyhole 
"Pickled  pork." 

"That's  the  Eathsherr,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen, 
"Corlin,  open  the  door  just  wide  enough  for  a  man 


94  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

to  pass,  and,  as  soon  as  he  is  inside,  shut  it  fast 
again." 

So  Corlin  opens  the  door  a  little  way,  and  the 
Rathsherr  proceeds  to  squeeze  through;  but  in  the 
process  the  cape  of  his  cloak  falls  back,  and  reveals 
the  cocked  hat  and  the  red  uniform  collar. 

"Ah!  Ah!"  —  screamed  Corlin,  and  held  the 
Rathsherr  fast  in  the  door.  "A  Frenchman!  The 
French!" 

"Pickled  pork,"  cried  Rathsherr  Herse.  "Don't 
you  hear?     Pickled  pork." 

But  it  came  too  late;  Ilanchen  had  knocked  the 
hat  off  his  head  and  the  skin  off  his  face  with  her 
broom,  and  Mamsell  Westphalen  had  thrown  two 
hands  full  of  ashes  into  his  eyes. 

My  uncle  Herse  now  stood  in  the  kitchen,  puff- 
ing, and  blowing,  and  snorting  and  groping  with  his 
hands  out,  as  if  he  were  playing  at  "blind  man's 
buff,"  —  his  heart  full  of  rage,  and  dark  night  be- 
fore his  eyes.  His  whole  plan  had  turned  out  a 
nest  of  addled  eggs;  for  what  is  there  in  a  secret 
that  becomes  a  kitchen  scene!  what  can  an  imposing 
face  do  when  it  is  battered  about  by  a  broom!  and 
what  becomes  of  the  splendour  of  a  Rathsherr's 
uniform  when  peat-ashes  lie  on  it  like  blight  on  a 
flower! 

The  first  who  recovered  her  senses,  and  became 


iT' 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  95 

aware  wlio  it  was  that  they  had  been  treating  in  this 
fashion,  was  Hanchen.  With  one  bound  she  was 
out  of  doors  in  the  rain.  Corlin  followed  and  said 
to  her  —  "I'd  rather  be  wet  through,  than  get  one 
of  Mamsell  Westphalen's  scoldings." 

"By  George!  It's  the  Herr  Rathsherr,"  cried 
Fritz  Sahlmann. 

Mamsell  Westphalen  stood  there  like  Lot's  wife 
—  only  that  she  was  perhaps  stouter  —  and  looked 
at  the  Kathsherr  as  if  he  were  Sodom  and  Go- 
morrah. 

"Merciful  heavens!  We  are  all  wandering  in 
e  dark,"  she  said  in  a  feeble  voice. 

"It's  very  well  for  you  to  talk  of  wandering  in 
the  dark,"  sputtered  my  uncle  Herse.  "You  can  see, 
but  I  can't  open  my  eyes.     Get  me  some  water." 

Now  began  a  scene  of  washing,  and  rubbing, 
and  pitying,  and  wondering,  and  scolding,  and  con- 
soling; but  my  uncle  was  still  angry,  and  said 
that  all  the  women  in  the  Schloss  might  be  hanged 
for  what  he  cared,  it  would  be  a  long  time  before 
he  was  caught  entering  into  secret  conspiracies  with 
women  again.  Mamsell  Westphalen  held  her  apron 
up  to  her  eyes  and  began  to  cry: 

"Herr  Rathsherr,"  she  said,  "tell  me  what  I 
ought  to  do.  I  have  no  father  or  mother  left  and, 
after  last  night,  I  couldn't  let  myself  be  seen  by  the 


96  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

Herr  Amtshauptmann.  You  are  the  only  one  I  can 
look  to  for  help  now." 

My  uncle  Herse  had  a  heart,  a  soft  heart;  my 
uncle  Herse  had  a  soul,  a  tender  soul;  and,  when  he 
had  quite  got  the  ashes  out  of  his  eyes,  and  Mamsell 
Westphalen  had  rubbed  cold  cream  on  the  scratches 
in  his  face  till  it  looked  like  a  red  and  white  toad- 
stool, he  said  kindly: 

"Leave  off  crying.  I  will  help  you.  You  must 
take  to  flight." 

"Take  to  flight!"  she  exclaimed  and  looked  in 
a  puzzled  way  at  her  figure  from  head  to  foot;  "Do 
you  mean  me  to  take  to  flight?" 

And  she  thought  of  the  pigeons  up  in  her  pigeon- 
house;  and  if  the  matter  had  not  been  too  serious 
for  her,  she  would  almost  have  laughed. 

"Yes,"  said  my  uncle.  "Do  you  think  that  with 
these  roads  and  in  this  weather  you  could  walk 
three  or  four  miles  at  a  stretch,  for  no  conveyance 
is  to  be  had —  and  besides  it  would  not  be  secret 
enough?" 

"Herr  Rathsherr,"  she  said,  and  all  desire  to 
laugh  entirely  left  her,  "look  at  me  for  a  moment. 
Is  it  likely  I  could?  Why,  it's  hard  work  for  me 
now  to  go  upstairs." 

"Can  you  ride  then?" 

"What?" 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  <97 

"I  ask,  can  you  ride?" 

Mamsell  Westphalen  now  got  up,  set  her  arms 
a-kimbo  and  said:  ^'What  respectable  woman  ever 
rides?  I  have  known  one  female  in  my  life  who 
did;  she  was  a  young  lady,  and  the  rest  of  her  con- 
duct was  of  a  piece  with  it.'' 

Rathsherr  Ilerse  now  also  got  up,  and  walked 
once  or  twice  up  and  down  the  kitchen,  lost  in 
thought,  and  at  last  asked  — 

"Do  you  think  you  could  sit  for  twenty -four 
hours  in  the  town  peat-bog?" 

"But,  Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen, 
A  put  her  apron  up  to  her  eyes  again  and  wiped 
away  the  tears,  "I'm  now  over  fifty,  and  I  had  my 
eat  illness  last  autumn  and " 

"Then  that  won't  do  either,"  broke  in  the  Raths- 
herr. "There  are  only  two  ways  left,  one  upstairs, 
the  other  down  below.  Fly  you  must,  either  on  to 
the  roof  or  into  the  cellar." 

"Herr  Rathsherr,"  cried  Fritz  Sahlmann,  and  he 
crept  from  behind  the  stove,  "I  know  a  place." 

"What  you  here!"  exclaimed  Rathshen*  Herse. 

"Yes,"  said  Fritz  quite  abashed. 

"Well  then  it's  all  over  again  with  secrecy,  for 
what  three  know,  the  whole  world  knows." 

"I  promise  faithfully  I  won't  tell,  Herr  Raths- 
herr," said  Fritz.     "And,  Mamsell,  I  know  a  capital 

In  the  Year  '45.  1 


lirani 


n^< 


98  IN  THE   YEAR  'l3. 

place.  There's  a  plank  loose  in  the  "garret  where 
you  hang  your  hams  and  sausages  to  smoke,  and,  if 
you  make  yourself  small,  you  can  squeeze  through, 
and  behind  there  by  the  chimney  there's  a  little 
place  where  you  can  hide  and  no  one  would  ever 
find  you." 

"You young  scoundrel,"  said Mamsell  Westphalen, 
forgetting  all  her  sorrows  and  woes,  "then  it's  you 
who  are  always  stealing  the  sausages  from  up  there; 
and,  Herr  Rathsherr,  I  have  always  suspected  the 
innocent  rats." 

My  uncle,  having  threatened  Fritz  Sahlmann  with 
a  sound  thrashing,  said  it  was  now  high  time  and 
they  must  fly,  and  it  would  be  the  very  place. 
So  they  all  set  off  up  to  the  garret,  and  when  Fritz 
Sahlmann  had  shown  them  the  loose  plank  and  the 
hiding-place,  my  uncle  Herse  said  — 

"Well,  Mamsell,  now  sit  down  on  the  floor. 
There's  no  help  for  it.  I  will  lock  the  door  of  the 
garret;  and  if  you  hear  anyone  coming,  creep  softly 
into  the  hole,  and  mind  you  don't  sneeze  or 'cough." 

"You  may  well  say  that,  Herr  Rathsherr  —  in 
this  smoke,"  she  replied. 

"Oh,  we  will  soon  manage  that,"  said  he,  and 
opened  the  dormer  window. 

They  were  going  away  when  she  said,   "Fritz, 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  99 

my  lad,  don't  forsake  me;   and  bring  me  word  how 
things  are  going  on.'- 

"Under  no  circumstances  must  he  come  up  here," 
said  the  Rathsherr,  "he  might  be  seen,  and  then 
everything  would  be  discovered." 

"Leave  it  to  me,  Mamsell,"  said  Fritz,  and  made 
her  a  side  wink,  "I'll  manage  it." 

They  went;  and  Mamsell  Westphalen  sat  alone 
in  her  sadness  under  her  flitches  of  bacon  and  hams 
and  sausages. 

"Of  what  use  are  all  these  blessings,"  she  said 
to  herself,  "when  a  person  of  my  years  has  to  take 
to  flight." 

After  seeing  Mamsell  Westphalen  into  her  place 
of  safety,  my  uncle  Herse  went  down  again  to  the 
kitchen  and  cautioned  Fritz  Sahlmann  once  more 
against  letting  out  anything,  impressing  his  warning 
well  on  Fritz  by  a  box  on  the  ears.  He  then  pulled 
the  cape  of  his  grey  cloak  over  his  cocked-hat  and 
embroidered  uniform  collar,  and  crept  cautiously 
out  at  the  back-door  like  a  cat  out  of  a  pigeon- 
house. 
'  Scarcely  had  he  put  his  head  out  of  doors,  when 
a  screeching  and  yelling  arose;  and  Hanchen  and 
Corlin ,  who  were  going  back  into  the  kitchen ,  think- 
ing that  the  coast  was  once  more  clear,  flew  asunder 

7* 


100  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

like  two  white  doves  when  a  hawk  pounces  down 
upon  them. 

"Hold  your  tongues!  I  am  not  going  to  do 
anything  to  you,"  cried  my  uncle  Herse. 

But  what  was  the  use  of  his  saying  that?  The 
peasants ,  who  had  remained  in  the  garden  with  their 
horses,  looked  round  at  the  noise;  and,  seeing  the 
disguised  French  officer,  that  is  my  uncle  Herse, 
they  all  made  for  the  green  gate,  and  in  a  few 
moments  not  a  man  nor  a  hoof  to  draw  the  cannon 
was  to  be  seen. 

The  Rathsherr  now  struck  into  a  little  side- 
path  among  the  bushes,  and  whom  should  he  meet 
but  old  Miller  Voss  with  the  valise  under  his  arm. 

"Good  morning,  Herr  Eathsherr." 

"The  devil  take  you!"  exclaimed  Rathsherr 
Herse.  "Don't  you  see,  Miller  Voss,  that  I  don't 
wish  to  be  known?" 

"Well,  that's  my  case  too,"  said  the  Miller. 
"But,  Herr  Rathsherr,  you  would  do  me  a  great 
favour  if  you  would  see  my  horse  and  cart  into  a 
place  of  safety.  I  have  fastened  it  up  near  the 
green  gate.  I'll  do  you  a  good  turn  in  exchange. 
As  soon  as  the  perch  in  the  mill-pond  begin  to  bite, 
I'll  let  you  know." 

"I  will  see  to  it,"  said  the  Rathsherr. 

He   went   on  to   the  green  gate,   and  when  he 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  101 

had  found  the  Miller's  cart  and  unfastened  it,  he 
got  into  it,  and  was  just  driviji^  off;  yrbeii  inp  came 
a  party  of  French  soldiers,  and  at  their  head  the 
colonel  of  artillery  by  whose  command  all  the  horses 
and  waggons  had  been  sent  for  from  the  surround- 
ing villages. 

My  uncle  Herse  was  now  forthwith  arrested,  and 
pulled  down  off  the  cart;  and,  what  with  his  uni- 
form and  his  keeping  on  crying  out  that  he  was 
'''' conseiller  d'etat  ^^  —  for  he  could  not  at  the  moment 
find  any  better  word  for  a  Stemhagen  Rathsherr  — 
the  French  thought  they  must  have  made  a  good 
catch,  and  that  they  had  now  got  the  head  of  the 
conspiracy  to  rob  them  of  their  waggons  and  teams. 

The  colonel  of  artillery  cursed  and  swore  in  the 
most  unchristian  French  *,  he  would  make  an  example 
of  the  Rathsherr  *,  four  men  should  take  him  between 
them. 

And  so  my  uncle  Herse,  who  had  come  in  the 
greatest  secrecy,  to  do  a  good  work  to  others,  was 
led  back  into  the  town  a  public  spectacle,  to  suffer 
martyrdom  for  his  good  intentions. 

When  this  happened,  Witte  the  baker  was  stand- 
ing close  by,  behind  the  great  chestnut-tree;  for  he, 
too,  had  come  to  take  the  Miller's  cart  into  a  place 
of  safety. 

"That  can't  hurt  the  Herr  Rathsherr,"   he   said 


102  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

to  himself-,  ''he  biiys  his  white  bread  of  Guhlen, 
why  dbesh't  he, buy  it  of  me?  Well,  he  must  judge 
for  himself,  and  he  can  do  it  too,  he's  clever 
enough-,  but  the  unreasoning  cattle  can't,  and  so 
one  of  us  must  look  after  them."  And,  so  saying, 
he  got  into  the  cart,  and,  following  the  French  at  a 
distance,  drove  slowly  towards  his  barns,  and  put 
the  horse  in  his  stable. 


IN  THE   YEAR  '13.  103 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Why  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  had  to  read  Marcus  Aurelius ,  and  was 
not  allowed  to  wash  his  face ;  and  why  he  did  not  think  the  Miller's 
Fieka  was,  like  other  girls,  always  fretting  and  crying. 

The  Amtshauptmann  walked  round  and  round 
his  room,  and  fumed  inwardly,  for,  though  not 
naturally  of  a  hasty  temper,  still  he  was  an  old 
man ,  and  accustomed  to  command  and  have  his  own 
way,  and  was  he  now  to  be  ordered  about  by  others? 
He  had  been  obliged  to  get  up  at  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning  —  a  thing  which  went  against  all  his 
feelings —  and  he  had  not  got  his  coffee;  and  when 
he  had  wanted  to  smoke  a  pipe,  to  comfort  himself 
a  little,  no  pipes  were  there.  He  rang  the  bell 
once  —  no  Fritz  Sahlmann;  he  rang  twice  —  no 
Hanchen*,  he  pulled  his  snuff-box  out  of  his  pocket 
and  took  a  pinch  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  as  people 
do  when  they  want  to  prepare  themselves  for  all 
the  possible  evils  that  may  come;  then  he  drew  out 
his  eyeglass  and  looked  at  the  weather.  Outside, 
it  was  raining  in  torrents,  and  the  crows  sat  ^still 
and  hunched-up  in  the  high  bare  branches  of  the 
elm-trees  with  their  wings   drooping  —  looking   as 


104  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

if  they  were  stuck  together,  and  dripping,  like  old 
peasant  Kugler,  when  he  had  been  soused  one  even- 
ing up  to  the  brim  of  his  hat  in  the  village  pond. 

"No  comfort  out  there  either,"  said  the  old  Herr 
to  himself;  "but  where  is  there  comfort  in  Germany 
now?  It's  a  very  strange  thing  is  the  government 
of  this  world.  The  Almighty  lets  a  miserable  hound 
like  that  Buonaparte  bring  ruin  on  the  whole  earth. 
It's  difficult  for  Christian  people  to  understand.  The 
high  ducal  cabinet  often  issues  orders  and  decrees 
that  no  Christian  or  official  can  make  out;  but  the 
high  ducal  cabinet  ministers  are,  after  all,  only 
poor  sinners,  and  stupidity  is  one  of  their  high 
^[ualities,  and  we  know  that,  and  make  up  our 
minds  to  it,  though  not  perhaps  without  just  a  little 
anger  and  vexation.  But  to  Christians  who  believe 
in  God's  Providence,  to  see  the  use  of  the  base  cur 
Buonaparte,  is  —  is  — "  and  he  took  off  the  night- 
cap, which  he  always  wore  until  his  hair  was  dressed, 
and  held  it  about  three  inches  above  his  head. 
''May  God  forgive  me  my  sins!  I  have  borne 
hatred  to  no  one,  and  have  had  enmity  with  no  one 

—  not  even  with  the  high  ducal  cabinet  and  its 
confounded  admonitions;  but  I  have  a  hatred  now! 

—  "  and  he  threw  his  nightcap  on  the  ground  and 
stamped  upon  it,  "I  have  a  hatred  now,  and  I  will 
keep  it." 


IN  THE  YEAll  '13.  105 

Probably  he  said  these  last  words  rather  loud, 
for  his  wife  came  in,  looking  anxious. 

"Weber!  Weber!  what  is  the  matter  with  you? 
Has  Fritz  Sahlmann  or  Hanchen .  .  .?'' 

"No,  Neiting;"  he  broke  in,  and  picked  up  his 
nightcap.     "It's  not  that.     It's  Buonaparte." 

"Gracious  heavens!"  she  cried,  "at  him  again. 
Why  must  you  keep  plaguing  yourself  about  him?" 
And  she  walked  up  to  the  Amtshauptmann's  book- 
case, and  took  out  a  book.  "There,  Weber,  read 
your  book." 

Now  this  was  Marcus  Aurelius,  of  which  the 
Herr  Amtshauptmann  used  to  read  a  chapter  when 
he  was  out  of  humour*,  or,  if  he  was  angry,  two. 
He  took  the  book,  therefore,  and  read;  and  his  wife 
tied  the  white  napkin  round  his  neck,  and  combed 
his  grey  hair,  and  twisted  it  into  the  funny  little 
pigtail,  and  shook  the  powder  lightly  and  gently 
over  his  head.  Marcus  Aurelius  did  its  share  too, 
and  all  the  angry  Avrinkles  were  gone  from  the  fine 
open  forehead  by  the  time  the  Frau  Amtshauptmann 
had  scraped  the  powder  off  his  face  with  her  little 
silver  knife.  "For  she  must  always  scrape  it  off," 
said  Hanchen,  in  talking  about  it;  "and  he  mustn't 
wash  his  face  after,  or  else  the  flour  would  paste 
his  eyes  together." 

"Neiting,"  said  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  when 


106  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

his  head  was  finished,  "just  give  a  look,  if  you 
don't  mind,  to  the  household  down-stairs.  I  can't 
make  it  out;  Hanchen  doesn't  come,  and  Fritz 
fSahlmann  doesn't  come.  The  dam — ,  I  mean  to 
say,  the  godless  Frenchmen  have  turned  the  whole 
house  upside  down.     What  say  you,  eh?" 

The  Frau  Amtshauptmann  was  a  good  little 
woman;  and,  though  rather  delicate  in  health,  she 
was  not  irritable,  and  was  always  ready  to  bear 
with  the  old  gentleman's  eccentricities.  Their  only 
son,  Joe,  was  abroad,  and  so  the  two  old  people 
were  thrown  together  quite  alone  in  the  great  old 
castle,  and  faithfully  and  honestly  they  shared  their 
griefs  and  joys  together;  and  if  ever  time  began  to 
seem  long,  it  always  so  chanced  that  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann  would,  at  the  right  time,  take  up 
some  wonderful  new  whim,  and  the  yawning  would 
be  changed  into  a  sun-shower  which  freshened  up 
their  love  again;  for  it  is  with  love  as  with  a  tree 
—  the  more  the  wind  blows  in  its  top  and  branches, 
the  faster  it  throws  out  roots. 

Now,  what  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  asked  from 
his  wife  that  morning,  namely  that  she  should  look 
to  the  household,  cannot  exactly  be  called  a  whim, 
and  therefore  his  wife  made  no  objection;  though 
many  a  well  brought-up  wife  in  these  days  would 
have  done  so. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13,  107 

She  had  just  gone  on  her  way  when  old  Miller 
Voss  entered  the  room  with  the  valise. 

"Good  morning,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,"  said 
the  Miller,  and  made  his  bow,  "if  you'll  allow  me," 
and  he  laid  the  valise  on  the  table;  "here  it  is." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  old  Herr. 

"How  should  I  know,  Herr?  But  I  do  know 
this  much  —  it's  stolen  goods." 

"How  do  you  come  by  stolen  goods.  Miller 
Voss?" 

"How  does  the  hound  get  into  the  leash,  Herr 
Amtshauptmann? — All  I  know  is,  this  is  the  chas- 
seur's leather  bag,  and  the  devil  put  him  into  my 
waggon  last  night,  and  afterwards  Friedrich  threw 
him  out  again."  And  then  the  Miller  told  the  whole 
story. 

While  he  was  telling  it,  the  Amtshauptmann 
paced  up  and  down  the  room,  and  muttered  every 
now  and  then  in  his  beard  something  about  "bad 
business."  Then  he  stopped  in  front  of  the  Miller, 
and  looked  him  sharply  in  the  face*,  and  when  the 
Miller  had  done,  he  said: 

"Well,  Miller  Voss,  then  it  is  certain,  is  it,  that 
the  Frenchman  is  still  alive?" 

"How  can  I  tell,  Herr  Amtshauptmann?  You 
see,  I  make  my  reckoning  in  this  way.  The  night 
could  hardly  be  called  cold  for  this  time   of  year. 


108  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

but  it  rained  right  through  the  night;  and  if  we 
two,  Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  you  or  I,  had  spent  the 
night  there,  maybe  we  should  have  been  cold  and  stiff 
this  morning.  But  then  again  I  reckon,  those  sorts 
of  fellows  are  more  used  to  lying  about  on  the 
ground  than  we  are,  and  if  it  didn't  do  anything  to 
him  in  Russia,  maybe  it  won't  hurt  him  here.  And 
he  went  away  afterwards,  that's  certain.  Friedrich 
has  gone  to  look  for  him;  but  if  anything  has  hap- 
pened to  him  since,  it's  not  our  fault." 

"Miller,"  said  the  old  Herr  —  and  he  shook 
his  head —  "tliis  is  a  bad  business.  If  your  Fried- 
rich  doesn't  catch  the  Frenchman  again,  it  may  cost 
you  your  head." 

"Lord,  save  us!"  cried  the  Miller;  "Into  what 
scrapes  am  I  coming  in  my  old  age!  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann, I  am  innocent;  and  I  haven't  kept  this 
leather  bag  either,  and  the  horse  is  in  Baker  Witte's 
barn." 

"Yes,  lucky  for  you.  Miller;  that's  very  lucky 
for  you,  I  give  you  my  word.  And  you  say  there 
is  nothing  but  gold  and  silver  in  the  valise?" 

"No,"  said  the  Miller;  "nothing  but  gold  and 
silver  —  Prussian  money,  Mecklenburg  money, 
louisd'ors,  and  silver  spoons;"  and  so  saying  he 
unbuckled  the  valise,  and  disclosed  its  contents. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  109 

The  IleiT  Amtsliauptmann  opened  his  eyes. 
"Heavens!"  he  cried,  "why,  that's  a  treasure!" 

"Yes,  you  may  well  say  that,  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann.  My  wife  never  says  much;  but,  when  she 
saw  this,  she  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  couldn't 
get  out  a  single  word." 

"This  is  all  stolen.  Miller.  Here's  the  Wertzen 
crest  on  the  silver  things.  I  know  their  arms.  The 
wretch  has  stolen  these  spoons  somewhere  in  the 
neighbourhood.  But  this  won't  make  your  case 
better." 

The  Miller  stood  there  as  if  petrified.  The  Herr 
Amtsliauptmann  walked  down  the  room  again,  and 
scratched  his  head;  at  last,  he  went  up  to  the 
Miller,  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "Miller 
Voss,"  said  he,  "I  have  always  held  you  to  be  an 
lionest  man;  but  such  honesty  —  in  such  circum- 
stances! Why,  you  can  hardly  live  from  one  day 
to  another,  and  yet,  from  pure  conscience,  you  give 
up  a  sum  of  money  like  that,  coming  nobody  could 
have  told  from  where!" 

The  old  Miller  turned  as  red  as  fire ,  and  looked 
at  the  toes  of  his  boots. 

"Yes,  Miller,"  the  Amtshauptmann  went  on,  "this 
conduct  of  yours  is  very  strange,  for  you  could  not 
know  what  has  happened  here;  but  thank  God  for 
it;  —  it  is  possible  this  has  saved  your  life." 


110  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

The  danger  in  which  he  thought  he  must  be, 
the  undeserved  praise  which  sorely  pricked  his  con- 
science; the  sight  of  a  small  loophole  by  which, 
through  God's  help ,  he  might  yet  escape  out  of  this 
bad  business,  and  the  feeling  that  he  had  not  de- 
served all  this,  came  hard  upon  the  Miller.  He 
stood  there  with  his  eyes  cast  down,  and  moved 
about  uneasily,  —  twirling  his  hat  round  more  and 
more  fiercely  till  at  last  it  quite  lost  its  shape. 

''The  devil  take  the  whole  business  and  me  into 
the  bargain,  Herr  Amtshauptmann!"  he  cried.  "But 
the  Lord  is  merciful  to  me  and  will  help  me  in  this 
trouble,  and  I  won't  have  anything  wrong  on  my 
conscience.  No,  what  is  true,  is  true.  And  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  my  little  Fieka,  the  cursed  French- 
man's money  would  be  lying  at  home  in  my  cup- 
board at  this  moment,  and  I  should  be  swinging  on 
the  gallows." 

And  now  he  told  all  about  it. 

"Miller,"  said  the  Amtshauptmann  when  the 
story  was  finished,  "I'm  not  fond  of  girls  myself; 
boys  are  better;  girls  fret  and  cry  too  much  for  me. 
But  your  Fieka  is  quite  different.  Miller,  it  is  very 
much  to  the  credit  of  you  and  your  wife  that  you 
have  brought  up  such  a  child.  And,  Miller,  when 
you  come  again,  bring  your  Fieka  with  you;  don't 
forget;  I  —  that  is  my  wife  —  will  be  very  glad 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  Ill 

to  see  her.  What  say  you,  Eh!  And  now  take  the 
valise  and  carry  it  down  to  the  Eathhaus ;  the  French 
are  holding  a  court  of  justice  there  —  fine  justice  it 
will  be!  —  and  ask  for  the  Burmeister,  he  is  a  kind 
man  and  can  talk  French  too;  and  I  shall  be  there 
in  a  short  time,  and  will  do  everything  in  my  power 
for  you." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I'm  a  good  bit  lighter  now 
about  the  heart.  And  about  that  other  business,  the 
bankruptcy?     You  think  — " 

"That  you're  an  old  fool  to  get  into  any  more 
scrapes  at  your  age." 

"Thank  you,  Herr  Amtshauptmann.  Well,  then, 
good  day." 

And  the  Miller  departed. 


112  IN   TPIE  YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER  X. 

How  Fritz  Salilmann  sat  in  an  apple-tree  in  the  rain  without  any  um- 
brella, and  stuffed  a  roll  of  papers  in  under  the  back  of  his  waist- 
coat; and  how  Mamsell  Westphalen  declared  herself  to  be  a  miser- 
able sinner. 


After  a  little  wliile,  tlie  Frau  Amtshauptmann 
came  back  into  the  room  and  said,  ''Weber,  what 
can  be  the  meaning  of  this?  Fritz  Salilmann  is  not 
there;  and  Mamsell  Westphalen  is  not  there,  and  her 
room  looks  as  if  Turks  and  Infidels  had  been  hold- 
ing high  holiday  in  it;  and  the  maids  say  all  they 
know  about  it  is,  that  theRathsherrllerse  had  slipped 
in  at  the  back-door,  and  Hanchen  had  pushed  her 
broom  in  his  face  by  accident,  and  Mamsell  Westpha- 
len had  thrown  a  lot  of  peat-ashes  in  his  eyes ,  also 
by  accident,  and  afterwards  Mamsell  Westphalen  and 
Fritz  Sahlmann  had  gone  away,  and  they  don't 
know  where  they  are." 

"This  is  a  very  strange  thing,"  said  the  old 
Herr.  "What  has  the  Rathsherr  Herse  to  do  in  the 
kitchen?  I  like  the  man  well  enough,  Neiting,  he's 
a  pleasant  fellow,  but  he  must  poke  his  nose  into 
every  hole,  and  I  never  heard  of  anything  sensible 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  113 

coming  of  it.  Tell  me,  Neiting,  which  of  the  maids 
do  you  consider  the  most  sensible?" 

"Weber,  what  are  you  talking  about?  As  if  you 
could  expect  sense  from  that  class." 

"Well  then,  the  quickest,  the  sharpest?" 

"Oh,  then  certainly  Hanchen  Besserdich,  for  her 
eyes  take  in  everything  at  once,  and  her  tongue 
goes  even  faster  than  her  eyes." 

"Call  her  to  me,"  said  the  Herr. 

It  was  done,  and  Hanchen  came.  Hanchen  Bes- 
serdich was  a  smart  little  damsel,  as  sharp  and  wide- 
awake as  only  a  Gtilzow  Schult's*  daughter  can  be, 
—  at  that  time  it  was  the  custom  for  the  daughters 
of  the  village  Schults  to  go  into  service.  —  But  now 
she  stood  before  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  and 
played  with  her  apron-strings,  with  her  eyes  cast 
down,  for  she  felt  as  if  she  were  in  a  court  of 
justice. 

"You  are  now  before  me  to  speak  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth,"  said  her 
master.  "Hanchen  Besserdich,  what  do  you  know 
of  Mamsell  Westphalen?  Begin  by  yesterday  even- 
ing." 

Hanchen  told  him  what  she  knew,  and  what  we 
know. 

*  The  Schult  (Bailiff)   is   in  a  village  what  the  Burmeister,   or 
Mayor,  is  in  a  town. 
In  the  Year  *13.  8 


114  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

"So  slie  slept  witli  you,  and  not  in  lier  own 
room?"  said  the  old  Herr. 

"Weber,  what  can  you  mean  by  asking  such 
questions?"  broke  in  the  Frau  Amtshauptmann. 

"Neiting,  every  circumstance  is  of  importance,  if 
innocence  is  to  be  brought  to  light.  And  you  don't 
think,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  Hanchen,  "that  she 
has  run  away  with  the  Herr  Rathsherr  Herse?" 

"No,  Herr;  I  think  she  has  run  away,  but  not 
with  the  Rathsherr;  for  I  met  him  alone  at  the 
back-door  when  I  came  back  from  seeing  my  brother 
who  was  in  the  garden,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  with 
our  horse  to  draw  the  French  cannons-,  but  — "  and 
here  she  raised  her  eyes  from  the  ground,  and  there 
was  a  roguish  look  in  her  fresh  round  face,  —  "but, 
Herr  Amtshauptmann,  he  has  got  away  from  the 
French." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  old  Herr.  "Your  brother 
has  got  away,  has  he?" 

"Yes,"  said  Hanchen,  smiling  again  roguishly, 
"and  he  was  the  first  to  begin  the  running-away, 
and  he  showed  the  others  the  little  green  gate." 

"That  was  a  foolish  prank  of  his;  and  if  the 
French  catch  him,  they'll  make  him  smart  for  it. 
You  Besserdichs  are  a  saucy  lot.  —  Neiting,  remind 
me  of  that  young  rascal,  Fritz  Besserdich,  another 
time.  —  And,  Hanchen,  where  is  Fritz  Sahlmann?" 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  115 

Hanclien  was  cowed  again,  and  what  followed, 
came  only  by  fits  and  starts.  "Why,  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann,  he  smashed  all  your  pipes  to  pieces  this 
morning  and  then  said  I  had  done  it.  And,  indeed, 
it  wasn't  my  fault;  for  I  only  just  wanted  to  look 
round  the  corner  when  the  French  Colonel  was 
raging  about,  and  then  he  ran  at  me  with  the  pipes 
in  his  hand,  and  now  the  pieces  are  strewn  all  over 
the  kitchen." 

"And  since  then  you  have  seen  nothing  of  him 
this  morning?" 

"  Yes,  Herr,  when  the  watchmaker  was  transpired^ 
he  ran  along  with  him,  and  then,  when  he  came 
back  again,  he  went  talking  High  German  to  Mamsell 
Westphalen  and  then  they  both  whispered  together." 

"High  German?  Fritz  Sahlmann  talking  High 
German?  What  does  the  rascal  want  to  be  talking 
High  German  for?     What  did  he  say?" 

"He  said:  ''help  is  near.'''''' 

"Oh!  and  then  the  Rathsherr  came?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  and  I  shoved  my 
broom  in  his  face;  but  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"This  is  a  very  strange  thing!"  said  the  old 
Herr,  and  walked  up  and  down,  and  stroked  his 
chin,  and  looked  up  at  the  ceiling,  and  looked  down 
on  the  floor.  At  last  he  stood  still  and  said,  "Neit- 
ing,  I  see  clearly  what  it  is.     That  old  fool,  West- 

8* 


116  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

phalen,  has  taken  fright,  and  the  Rathsherr  has  been 
meddling,  and  has  put  her  up  to  some  folly.  She 
has  hidden  herself  —  you'll  see." 

"Well  then,  let  her,  Weber." 

"No,  Neiting,  that  won't  do.  She  must  come  to 
the  town  and  bear  witness  for  the  watchmaker  and 
the  Miller,  or  both  their  necks  may  be  in  danger. 
If  I  only  knew  where  that  monkey,  Fritz  Sahlmann, 
was!  He'll  know  all  about  it.  And  you  don't  know 
where  he  is,  Hanchen?" 

"No,  Herr." 

"Well,  then,  you  may  go." 

As  Hanchen  turned  round  to  go,  her  eyes  fell  on 
the  end-window,  but,  being  naturally  very  clear  and 
wide-awake  they  took  in,  not  only  the  window,  but 
what  was  passing  outside  it.  She  turned  quickly 
round  again,  and  said  — 

"Now  I  know  where  he  is,  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann." 

"Well,  then,  where?" 

"Out  there,  sir." 

"Where?"  answered  the  old  Herr,  and  he  put  up 
his  eye-glasses,  and  looked  everywhere  except  where 
Fritz  Sahlmann  was. 

"There,  Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  there,  in  the  old 
apple-tree  that  stands  at  the  corner  of  the  kitchen 
wall." 


IN  THE   YEAR  '13.  117 

"So  he  is!  Well,  this  is  a  strange  thing!  —  In 
the  winter  too!  Now,  if  it  had  been  autumn  when 
the  apples  are  on  the  tree,  I  could  have  understood 
it;  but  in  the  winter!" 

"Oh!  Weber,"  said  his  wife,  "he  is  no  doubt 
practising  now." 

"Hanchen  Besserdich,  you  have  good  eyes,  what 
is  he  doing  there?"  asked  the  old  Herr  fumbling 
with  his  eye-glass. 

"Why,  he  has  got  a  long  pole,  but  what  he 
means  to  do  with  it  1  don*t  see.  He's  pointing  it 
towards  the  smoking-garret." 

"Towards  our  smoking-garret!  What  can  he 
want  there,  Neiting?" 

"I  don't  know,  Weber;  but  I  should  not  be  at 
all  surprised  if  some  more  sausages  were  missing  to- 
morrow." 

"Bravo,  bravo!  Why,  that  is  a  capital  tree  for 
my  Fritz.  Apples  in  summer,  and  sausages  in 
winter!"  And  he  opened  the  window  and  cried: 
"Fritz  Sahlmann!  Fritz,  my  lad,  come  down  from 
that  tree;  you  might  catch  cold  out  in  the  rain." 

There  is  said  to  be  an  animal,  called  the  sloth, 
that  takes  a  week  to  get  into  a  tree  and  a  week  to 
get  out  of  it  again.  Now,  Fritz  Sahlmann  did  not 
take  quite  as  long  as  that  to  come  down  out  of  the 
apple-tree;  but  still  he  was  long  enough,  and  it  could 


118  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

hardly  be  for  the  sake  of  his  trowsers  that  he  climbed 
down  so  cautiously,  and  when  he  was  down  at  the 
bottom  of  the  tree,  it  was  apparent  that  he  was 
meditating  deeply  whether  he  should  come  or  make 
off.  But  Fritz  Sahlmann  was  an  obedient  boy;  he 
came,  only  every  now  and  then  he  stopped  for  a 
moment. 

"Hanchen,  what  is  he  doing  there  behind  that 
gooseberry-bush?"  asked  the  old  Herr. 

"He  has  thrown  something  down  behind  it." 

"That's  it,  is  it?  —  Well,  Fritz,  you  can  come 
in  at  the  back-door.  —  And,  Hanchen,  you  go  down, 
and  take  care  that  he  does  not  make  his  escape  through 
the  front-door." 

Hanchen  went,  and  Fritz  came  —  slowly  as 
Christmas,  but  he  came. 

"Fritz  Sahlmann,  my  lad,  you  must  have  enough 
intelligence  to  see  that  it  can't  be  good  for  your 
health  to  be  sitting  out  there  in  this  rain  without  any 
umbrella;  another  time  take  one  with  you  when  you 
want  to  sit  out  in  the  rain.  And  you  must  also 
have  sufficient  intelligence  to  understand  that  it  is 
not  good  for  your  trowsers  to  be  climbing  about 
trees  in  the  rain;  choose  a  fine  day  for  such  work 
in  future.  Now,  tell  me;  what  were  you  doing  in 
the  tree?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  Herr  Amtshauptmann." 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  119 

"Hm,  hm,"  said  the  old  Herr;  "but  what  I 
wanted  to  ask  was :  Have  you  seen  anything  of  Mam- 
sell  Westphalen?" 

Fritz  Sahlmann  who  had  expected  quite  a  dif- 
ferent sort  of  question,  seemed  at  once  to  brighten 
up  and  said  quite  boldly:  "No,  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann." 

"Well,  my  lad,  you  could  not  be  expected  to 
know  a  thing  that  nobody  knows.  But  now  just  do 
me  the  favour  to  look  straight  at  me." 

Fritz  Sahlmann  did  him  the  favour;  but  his  look 
was  like  bad  money,  and  the  old  Herr  cannot  have 
taken  it  to  be  worth  much,  for  he  said  —  "Fritz 
Sahlmann,  here  is  a  knife,  go  down  and  cut  me  a 
stick  from  one  of  the  hazel-bushes  —  you  know 
where  they  are;  —  let  it.  be  as  thick  as  —  as  — 
well,  about  as  thick  as  your  middle-finger;  and,  my 
lad,  you  have  lost  something  behind  the  gooseberry- 
bush,  call  Hanchen  to  help  you  to  look  for  it.  But 
Hanchen  is  to  go  with  you,  do  you  hear?" 

Fritz  Sahlmann  now  saw  a  sad  prospect  opening 
before  him;  but  he  trusted  in  two  things  in  which 
people  generally  trust  in  their  difficulties,  namely, 
in  Providence,  —  that  it  would  at  the  right  time  put 
some  stone  in  the  way  of  the  old  Herr's  plans;  and 
then,  secondly,  in  his  good  luck  in  former  diffi- 
culties;  and   besides   these  he  had  another  help   in 


120  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

need  which  ordinary  mortals  know  nothing  of;  viz :  a 
little  bundle  of  papers  which,  in  serious  cases,  he 
used  to  stuff  up  under  the  back  of  his  waistcoat; 
and  this  he  did  not  forget  to-day. 

He  now  went  into  the  garden,  tolerably  quieted, 
with  the  secret  hope  that  Hanchen  would  miss  the 
right  gooseberry-bush;  but  while  he  was  busied  look- 
ing for  the  right-sized  stick,  he  saw,  with  inward 
quaking,  that  the  girl  had  gone  to  the  right  bush, 
and  picked  up  something  that,  in  the  distance,  ap- 
peared to  him  to  be  very  much  like  a  sausage.  He 
must  try,  therefore,  to  help  himself  in  some  other 
way.  So  he  first  of  all  cut  a  couple  of  imperceptible 
notches  in  the  stick,  which  did  not  exactly  add  to 
its  firmness,  and  then  he  tried  to  get  the  find  from 
Hanchen.  But  this  did  not  succeed,  for  Hanchen 
had  no  wish  to  undergo  a  second  examination  before 
the  Herr  Amtshauptmann ;  and,  besides,  it  occurred 
to  her  that  perhaps  it  had  been  Fritz  Sahlmann, 
who  had  one  night,  about  a  week  before,  strewn  her 
bed  with  hog's  bristles. 

So  Fritz  and  Hanchen  made  their  appearance 
once  more  before  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  the  former 
with  the  stick,  and  the  latter  with  a  nice  little  pork 
sausage. 

"Hanchen,"  said  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann, 
taking  the   sausage   from   her;    "you   can   go   now. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  121 

Neiting,"  he  said,  turning  to  liis  wife  and  holding 
up  the  sausage  before  her  eyes,  "this  is  what  we 
call  a  corpus  delicti ^^ 

"It  may  be,  Weber,  that  it  is  called  so  in  Latin, 
but  we  call  it  a  *pork  sausage.' " 

"Good,  Neiting.  But,  tell  me,  can  you  swear 
that  this  is  one  of  our  sausages?" 

"Yes,  Weber,  I  know  it  by  the  string.'" 

"Fritz  Sahlmann,  how  did  you  come  by  this 
sausage?'' 

Now,  this  was  a  terrible  question  for  Fritz ;  Pro- 
vidence was  clearly  not  interfering  on  his  behalf; 
his  luck  was  deserting  him-,  the  Amtshauptmann 
stood  before  him,  in  one  hand  the  sausage,  in  the 
other  the  stick,  and  the  stick  was  hardly  two  feet 
from  his  back ;  he  was  therefore  wholly  thrown  upon 
the  little  bundle  of  papers  for  help,  and  that  too 
was  only  so-so,  for  the  Amtshauptmann  might  dis- 
cover it  by  the  noise.  So  he  gave  himself  up 
for  lost,  began  to  cry  and  said  —  "It  was  given 
me." 

"That's  a  story,"  broke  in  the  Frau  Amtshaupt- 
mann, "you  have  stolen  it  with  the  long  pole." 

"Be  quiet,  Neiting!  No  leading  questions.  Fritz, 
who  gave  you  this  sausage?" 

"Mamsell  Westphalen." 

"When,  Fritz." 


122  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

"Wlien  I  was  sitting  in  the  tree." 

"Was  she  sitting  by  your  side?" 

"No,  she  was  sitting  in  the  smoking-garret ,  and 
then  she  fixed  the  sausage  on  the  pole;  I  had  stuck 
a  nail  into  the  end  of  it." 

"But  you  said  just  now,  you  did  not  know 
where  Mamsell  Westphalen  was.  Fritz  Sahlmann, 
you  have  told  me  a  lie." 

"Don't  beat  me,  don't  beat  me,  Herr  Amts- 
htiuptmann.  I  couldn't  help  it,  I  couldn't  really. 
The  Rathsherr  Herse  made  me  take  a  solemn  oath 
not  to  tell  anybody,  not  even  you,  where  Mamsell 
Westphalen  was." 

"Are  you  in  the  Rathsherr  Herse's  service  or  in 
mine?  You  have  told  me  a  falsehood,  Fritz,  and 
when  you  tell  lies  you  are  to  be  whipped;  those  are 
the  terms  of  our  contract." 

And,  so  saying,  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  took 
Fritz  by  the  collar,  and  raised  the  stick  in  the  air; 
and,  if  Providence  was  to  come  to  his  help,  it  was 
now  the  highest  time,  and  —  Providence  did  come. 
A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  in  walked  the 
Town  Messenger  —  Luth. 

"The  Herr  Burmeister's  respects,  and  things  are 
going  hard  against  the  watchmaker  and  the  Miller, 
and  would  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  be  so  good  as 
to  come  down  at  once  and  not  fail  to  bring  Mamsell 


IN  THE  YEAR  'l3.  123 

Westphalen  with  him,  for  her  evidence  was  of  the 
greatest  importance/' 

"I  will  come  at  once,  Luth.  Neiting,  the  matter 
is  pressing.  Fritz  Sahlmann,  get  my  coat,  and, 
Neiting,  you  go  up  to  that  old  bird  of  misfortune 
and  bring  her  down." 

It  may  be  guessed  how  quickly  Fritz  Sahlmann 
fetched  the  coat,  and  how  glad  he  was  to  get  out  of 
sight  of  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann! 

"Frau  Amtshauptmann,"  said  Fritz,  "I  must 
come  with  you,  for  she  won't  open  the  door  for  you 
alone;  and  she's  not  really  in  the  garret  itself,  but 
sitting  in  a  place  quite  near,  that  nobody  knows  but 
me." 

So  he  ran  on  in  front,  and  the  Frau  Amtshaupt- 
mann followed  him  softly.    Fritz  tapped  at  the  door. 

"Mamsell,  it's  me-,  open  the  door."     No  answer. 

"Mamsell,  all's  well!  Pickled  pork!"  Still  no 
answer. 

"Mamsell,  the  French  are  all  gone."  There- 
upon, something  began  to  move,  and  a  piteous  voice 
was  heard  to  say  — 

"Fritz  Sahlmann,  you  are  a  story-teller.  Don't 
tempt  me  to  come  out." 

Presently  the  Frau  Amtshauptmann  also  cried 
out:  "Open  the  door,  Westphalen.  It  is  I  —  your 
mistress." 


124  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

"I  cannot  let  myself  be  seen,"  cried  the  voice, 
"I  am  a  sinner,  a  miserable  sinner." 

"Only  open  the  door.  It  will  all  come  right 
again." 

After  long  preliminaries,  Mamsell  Westphalen  at 
length  opened  the  door;  and  now  stood  there,  red  in 
the  face,  and  the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks. 
But,  to  this  day,  nobody  knows  whether  it  was  from 
emotion  or  whether  it  was  from  the  smoke;  enough, 
the  tears  ran  down,  and^  if  it  can  properly  be  said  of 
a  stout  elderly  female,  she  looked  like  a  broken  reed. 

"Frau  Amtshauptmann,"  said  she,  "I  cannot  ap- 
pear before  you;  I  have  sunk  too  low.  For  more 
than  twenty  years  I  have  lived  in  your  house,  and 
in  all  that  time  I  have  never  taken  the  smallest 
thing  that  did  not  belong  to  me;  and  now,  in  an 
evil  hour,  I  have  taken  what  was  yours." 

"Come,  come,  Westphalen,  never  mind.  Only 
come  down  now." 

"Not  a  step,  Frau  Amtshauptmann,  till  I  have 
made  a  clean  breast  of  it.  —  Look  here,  you  must 
know  I  am  in  hiding;  Rathsherr  Herse  and  this 
imp,  Fritz  Salilmann,  helped  me  to  hide.  And 
while  I  was  sitting  here  in  sorrow  and  anguish 
thinking  about  Herr  Droi  and  his  fate  and  all  the 
rest,  and  expecting  this  urchin  would  bring  me 
word  how  things  were  going,   I  heard  a  cough  out- 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  125 

side  and  then  my  name  was  called,  and  when  I 
stole  to  the  window  to  see  who  it  was  I  thought  I 
was  going  to  have  a  fit;  for,  just  think,  Frau  Amts- 
hauptmann,  there  was  that  wicked  boy  had  climbed 
up  into  the  old  apple-tree  and  slid  along  one  of  the 
branches  and  was  hanging  like  a  crow  over  the 
abyss.  —  *Boy,'  I  said,  ^do  you  want  to  tumble  out 
of  the  tree?'  But  he  only  grinned  at  me.  'Boy,'  I 
cried,  'I  can't  bear  to  see  you  in  such  danger.' 
And,  do  you  know,  Frau  Amtshauptmann,  the  boy 
actually  laughed  at  me  and  said,  ^I  only  came  to 
bring  you  news  that  tlie  watchmaker  has  been 
hanged,  and  that  the  French  have  seized  the  Raths- 
herr  Herse,  and  he  is  lying  in  chains*,  and  a  whole 
battalion  has  been  sent  to  find  you  out!'  That  was 
not  comforting  news,  Frau  Amtshauptmann,  and  I 
was  terribly  alarmed;  but  I  assure  you  I  was  more 
alarmed  about  the  boy.  'Fritz,'  I  cried  again,  'get 
down  out  of  the  tree.'  Then  he  grinned  at  me,  like 
an  ape  at  a  camel,  and  said:  'Yes,  if  you'll  give 
me  a  sausage!'  And  then  he  began  playing  all  sorts 
of  tricks ,  and  jumping  about  in  the  branches  like  a 
rabbit  in  a  cabbage-garden,  till  everything  before 
my  eyes  seemed  green  and  yellow.  Then,  Frau 
Amtshauptmann,  then  I  thought  —  What  is  a  pork 
sausage?  And  what  is  a  human  life?  And  in  my 
terror,   I  took  your  property.      He  pushed  in   the 


126  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 

pole,  and  I  stuck  a  sausage  on  it.  —  Then  lie  was 
called  in  by  tlie  Herr  Amtsliauptmann ,  and,  as  lie 
clambered  down,  lie  said  just  loud  enough  for  me  to 
hear,  that  he  had  been  chaffing  me,  and  that  it  was 
all  untrue.  So  I  say  he's  a  liar,  Frau  Amtsliaupt- 
mann, and  that's  my  last  word." 

*' Never  mind  now,  Westphalen,  my  husband 
has  a  rod  in  pickle  for  him.  He  won't  escape 
punishment." 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  the  Frau  Amts- 
liauptmann succeeded  in  getting  the  old  dame  down- 
stairs, and  when  they  reached  the  hall,  the  Herr 
Amtsliauptmann  was  pacing  up  and  down  with  his 
stately  tread,  quite  ready  and  waiting  for  them. 

It  was  hard  work  now  to  get  Mamsell  West- 
phalen to  consent  to  go  with  the  old  Herr  to  the 
Rathhaus  ^'into  the  Lion's  jaws,"  as  she  said.  She 
would  bear  what  she  had  brought  on  herself  by  her 
ignorance,  although  she  had  acted  honestly  and  with 
good  intentions*,  but  to  stand  before  all  the  foreigners 
and  to  defend  herself  about  Herr  Droi,  that  was 
beyond  her  strength  as  a  respectable  woman,  and,  if 
the  Herr  Amtsliauptmann  insisted  upon  it,  Hanchen 
and  Corlin  must  go  too,  for  they  must  bear  witness 
that  she  had  passed  the  night  with  them.  On  this 
point  the  Amtsliauptmann  had  to  give  way,  and 
while  Mamsell  Westphalen  was  gone  to  her  room  to 


IN   THE   YEAR  '13.  127 

get  her  cap  and  shawl,  he  walked  up  and  down 
with  long  strides  lost  in  thought  and  waving  about 
his  Jena  stick,  without  which  he  never  Avent  out. 
At  length  he  said  — 

"Neiting,  she  is  right;  the  maids  can  do  no  harm. 
But,  Neiting,"  and  here  he  sniffed  about  in  the  air 
a  little,  "there's  a  smell  here  of  smoked  eels.  Has 
old  Neils  of  Giilzow  been  here  with  his  eels?" 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Weber?  Why, 
it's  from  Mamsell  Westphalen,  she  has  been  sitting, 
you  know,  in  the  smoking-garret  for  the  last  hour 
or  so." 

"That's  another  thing,"  said  the  old  Herr. 

His  wife  then  called  the  two  maids.  As  soon  as 
Mamsell  Westphalen  came  back  and  they  were  all 
together,  they  set  off,  after  Mamsell  Westphalen  had 
taken  an  eternal  farewell  of  the  Frau  Amtshaupt- 
mann. 

No  one  spoke  a  word,  only,  when  they  reached 
the  Schloss-gate,  Mamsell  Westphalen  looked  back 
and  said  —  "Hanchen,  when  we  get  to  the  market- 
place, run  over  to  Doctor  Lukow,  and  let  him  be 
present  at  my  misery.  Something  may  happen  to 
me  —  I  may  faint." 


128  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER  XL 

How  Witte  the  baker  was  drawn  into  the  conspiracy  through  his  meer- 
schaum pipe;  why  Mamsell  Westphalen  regarded  the  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann  as  a  white  dove  and  Hanchen  Besserdich  as  an  angel ; 
and  what  she  thought  of  the  French  Judge. 

If  there  was  confusion  up  at  the  Schloss,  there 
was  still  greater  confusion  down  in  the  town.  To 
be  sure  one  cannot  expect  the  quiet  of  a  church- 
yard when  a  troop  of  soldiers  is  quartered  in  a 
little  town,  and  the  peasants  of  the  neighbourhood 
and  the  townspeople  are  called  together,  by  roll  of 
drum,  to  help  with  hand  and  horse;  when  misery 
and  woe  cry  aloud  and  complain  on  the  one 
hand,  and  insolence  struts  about  unpunished  on  the 
other. 

But,  in  1806,  when  Murat,  Bernadotte  and 
Davoust  were  pursuing  old  Bliicher  —  and  he 
showed  them  his  teeth  at  Speck  and  Waaren  — 
when  that  famous  proclamation:  "Order  is  every 
citizen's  first  duty,"  came  from  Berlin,  it  was  cer- 
tainly quieter  than  now,  for  it  was  then  only  a 
question  of  command  and  obedience.  At  that  time 
"Messieurs   les  Fran^ais"   levied   contributions   and 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  129 

plundered  to  tlieir  heart's  content;  and  the  people 
crouched  down,  one  behind  another;  and  meanness 
and  baseness  were  seen  on  every  side,  for  every 
one  thought  of  himself  and  of  his  own  interest;  like 
Meister  Kahler  of  Malchin  who  said  to  his  wife  and 
children:  *'I  must  save  myself     You  can  stay  here. 

If  the  French  come "  and  he  ran  off  to  the 

brink  of  the  Eller  and  hid  himself  among  the 
reeds.  —  Everything  was  foul  and  reeking  from  top 
to  bottom. 

The  times  changed.  Distress  teaches  men  to 
pray;  but  it  also  teaches  them  to  defend  themselves. 
Schill  and  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  started  forth;  the 
whole  of  Low  Germany  began  to  stir;  no  one  knew 
where  the  movement  came  from ;  no  one  knew  where 
it  would  lead  to. 

Schill  marched  straight  through  Mecklenburg  to 
Stralsund.  By  Buonaparte's  command  the  Mecklen- 
burgers  resisted  his  passage  at  Damgoren  and  Trib- 
sees.  They  were  beaten,  for  they  fought  wretchedly. 
A  whole  company  of  tall  Mecklenburg  grena- 
diers were  taken  prisoners  by  one  of  SchilFs  Hus- 
sars. '^Boys,"  he  cried  to  them,  ''are  you  al- 
ready prisoners."  "No,"  said  their  brave  corporal, 
"no  one  has  said  anything  to  us."  "Well  then, 
come  along  with  me."     And  they  went  along  with 

In  the  Year  'i3,  '^ 


130  IN   THE   YEAR  'l3. 

him.  Was  it  cowardice?  Was  it  fear?  Whoever 
saw  my  fellow-countrymen  in  1813  and  in  1814; 
whoever  has  heard  anything  of  the  Strelitz  regiment 
of  Hussars,  will  judge  otherwise.  No,  it  was  not 
cowardice;  it  was  unwillingness  to  fight  against  that 
which,  in  their  secret  hearts,  they  hoped  and  longed 
for.  A  movement  was  beginning  in  Mecklenburg; 
and  when  Prussia  broke  forth,  Mecklenburg  was  the 
first  state  in  Germany  that  followed  its  example. 
Thus  it  was  and  thus  it  must  ever  be. 

And  times  changed  again.  Providence  had 
stripped  the  French  of  their  shining  snake-skin 
during  their  winter  in  Russia.  He,  who  before  had 
gone  about  like  a  master,  now  came  back  like  a 
beggar,  and  implored  pity  from  the  Germans;  and 
this  noble  gift  of  God's,  pity,  was  stronger  than  our 
bitter  hatred.  No  one  would  raise  his  hand  against 
him  whom  God  had  stricken  —  pity  made  us  forget 
his  ofPences.  Hardly  however  was  the  stiff  and  frozen 
snake  thawed  again  in  his  warm  German  bed,  than 
his  sting  once  more  appeared,  and  oppression  began 
anew.  But  the  spectre  in  Germany  had  become  a 
shadow,  and  the  shadow  had  got  flesh  and  bone, 
and  had  got  a  name,  and  the  name  was  shouted  out 
in  the  streets.  "Down  with  the  man-butcher!"  — 
that  was  the  war-cry. 

But  the  war-cry  was   no  passing  cry.      Not  a 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  131 

pack  of  ragged  young  fellows  —  not  the  orators  of 
the  streets  first  took  it  up.  No!  the  best  and  wisest 
met  together;  not  for  conspiracy  with  knife  and 
poison,  but  for  confederacy  with  hand  and  deed 
against  committed  wrong;  the  elders  spoke,  the 
young  ones  got  the  weapons.  Not  in  the  open 
street  did  the  first  fire  shoot  up  to  heaven  —  we 
Low  Germans  sufi'er  no  bonfires  to  be  lit  in  our 
streets;  but  each  one  lighted  a  fire  at  his  own 
hearth,  and  neighbour  came  to  neighbour  and  warmed 
himself  at  its  glow.  Not  from  a  fire  made  of  fir- 
wood  and  straw,  that  leaves  behind  it  only  a  heap 
of  ashes,  did  the  smoke  rise  towards  the  sky  —  we 
Low  Germans  are  a  hard  wood  that  burns  slowly, 
but  that  gives  out  heat;  and  in  those  days  the  whole 
of  Low  Germany  was  one  huge  charcoal  furnace, 
that  smouldered  and  glowed  —  quiet  and  silent  — 
till  the  charcoal  was  one  red-hot  mass;  and,  when 
it  was  free  from  smoke  and  flame,  we  threw  our 
iron  into  the  glowing  embers,  and  forged  our 
weapons  by  its  heat.  And  hatred  of  the  French  was 
the  whetstone  on  which  we  sharpened  them.  What 
followed  is  known  to  every  child;  or,  if  there  is 
one  to  whom  it  is  not  known,  it  is  the  duty  of  his 
father  to  impress  it  upon  him,  so  that  he  may  never 
forget  it. 

In  our   parts,   too,  the   charcoal-furnace   smoul- 

9* 


132  IN   THE   YEAR  '13. 

dered  and  smoked,  and  the  French  scented  it  in 
the  air;  they  felt,  at  every  step,  that  the  ground 
on  which  they  marched  shook  beneath  their  feet 
like  a  quicksand.  They  had  to  learn  that  the  offi- 
cials and  magistrates,  formerly  so  humble,  were 
beginning  to  oppose  and  assert  themselves;  they 
saw  that  the  townspeople  and  peasants  Avere  becom- 
ing refractory,  and  they  laid  their  hands  still  more 
heavily  on  the  country.  This  was  not  the  best  way 
to  soothe  the  rebellious  spirit;  the  people  became 
more  and  more  fractious ,  the  commands  of  the  French 
were  purposely  misunderstood,  and  where  things 
had  gone  smoothly  before,  there  was  now  a  mere 
mockery  of  obedience.  The  people  defended  them- 
selves by  all  manner  of  devices,  and  the  French, 
who  must  assuredly  have  felt  that  their  rule  was 
soon  coming  to  an  end,  carried  off  all  they  could 
get.  The  soldier  knew  that  his  officer  was  doing  no 
better. 

But  when  their  rule  actually  ended,  they  were 
far  from  expecting  an  open  revolt.  If,  however, 
they  could  have  read  what  was  written  on  all  faces 
—  for  example,  on  the  face  of  Witte  the  baker, 
who,  after  putting  the  Miller's  horse  and  cart  into 
his  barn,  was  now  leaning  over  his  half-door  smok- 
ing his  tolj^cco-pipe,  and  spitting,  and  looking,  with 
his  teeth  set,  in  the  direction  of  the  French  —  they 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  133 

would  have  taken  care  not  to  bend  the  bow  too  far. 
At  any  rate,  the  Frenchman  who  at  that  moment 
passed  by  the  baker  and  snatched  the  silver-topped 
meerschaum  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  and,  in  his  inso- 
lence, walked  on  quietly  smoking  it  as  if  nothing  had 
happened;  at  any  rate  he  would  have  made  off  a 
little  faster.  For  the  baker  had  scarcely  felt  it 
snatched  from  his  mouth,  when  he  rushed  out  at 
the  door,  picked  up  a  stone  as  big  as  his  fist,  and 
hurled  it  with  such  force  at  the  Frenchman,  that, 
striking  him  at  the  back  of  the  neck,  it  levelled  him 
with  the  ground. 

And,  when  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  arrived 
wtth  his  troop  of  women  at  the  market-place ,  a  fight 
was  going  on  between  the  baker's  assistants  and  the 
French,  and  the  French  and  the  neighbours,  with 
weapons  both  sharp  and  blunt,  which  was  not  stopped 
till  an  officer  came  and  separated  them. 

The  baker  was  dragged  off  to  the  Rathhaus  with 
a  broken  head,  for  having  dared  to  raise  his  hand 
against  "la  grande  nation;"  and  whatever  he  might 
say  as  to  the  "grande  nation's''  having  raised  its 
hand  against  his  pipe,  it  was  of  no  use  —  they 
dragged  him  along  all  the  same. 

At  the  Rathhaus  the  French  judge  was  sitting 
hearing  Miller  Voss's  case  about  the  loft  French- 
man; the  valise  with  the  money  was  lying  on   the 


134  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

table;  the  colonel,  von  Toll,  and  my  father  as  Bur- 
meister,  were  present.  My  father  had  told  the 
story  as  far  as  he  knew  it  quite  truthfully,  only 
he  had  been  silent  as  to  the  watchmaker  having 
frightened  the  French  chasseurs  away  at  his  com- 
mand; for  he  thought,  ^'Why  should  I  mention  it? 
The  watchmaker  will  tell  it  himself,  or,  if  he  does 
not,  it  will  come  out  in  Mamsell  Westphalen's  evi- 
dence.'' But  with  the  Miller  things  were  going  badly; 
he,  of  all  those  who  were  concerned,  was  the  last 
who  had  seen  the  Frenchman ;  he  had  wanted  to  take 
the  Frenchman  to  the  mill  with  him,  and  the  fellow 
was  no  longer  to  be  found.  What  spoke  well  for 
him  was ,  that  he  had  been  very  drunk  at  the  tim^, 
that  he  had  delivered  up  the  money  of  his  own 
accord,  and  that  he  had  at  once  said  that  the 
chasseur's  horse  was  in  the  baker's  stable.  When 
he  had  done  this,  and  guessed  from  my  father's 
questions  that  the  fact  of  his  having  been  drunk 
might  be  of  use  to  him,  he  made  the  very  most  of 
it,  and  to  all  questions  he  only  replied  that  he  knew 
nothing  further,  for  he  had  been  dead  drunk;  but  if 
they  chose  to  ask  Friedrich,  he  would  know  all 
about  it. 

So  stood  the  matter,  when  the  fight  with  Witte 
the  bakem  began  out  in  the  market-place.  My 
father  was  just  rushing  out  at  the  door  to  set  things 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  135 

to  rights,  when  Witte  was  dragged  in.  He  still 
exchanged  occasional  blows  with  his  guards,  min- 
gling ^'' lougres''''  and  '''' sacrh'^''  with  "rogues  and 
vagabonds."  His  entrance  into  the  court  did  not 
increase  its  stillness;  he  cursed,  he  swore,  and  my 
father  had  enough  to  do,  only  to  get  him  a  little 
quieter. 

"My  pipe,  Herr  Burmeister!  It  was  a  legacy 
from  my  father.  And  to  have  it  snatched  out  of 
my  mouth  before  my  very  eyes !  Am  I  a  Stemhagen 
burgher  or  not?" 

The  French  chattered  and  jabbered  away  to- 
gether-, Colonel  von  Toll  had  gone  out,  and  the 
judge  commanded  that  the  baker  should  be  bound, 
thrown  into  a  waggon  and  taken  along  with  the 
army.  What  more  should  be  done  with  him  would 
easily  be  determined;  he  had  raised  his  hand  against 
the  French,  that  was  quite  enough. 

Then  my  father  stepped  up  to  the  Judge  and 
explained  that  the  baker  was  a  well-conducted  man, 
that  he  had  always  borne  his  share  of  the  burden 
of  the  war-taxes  and  levies,  and  that  he  had  not 
attacked  the  French  power  but  had  only  attacked 
a  thief;  or  did  the  French  regard  a  silver-topped 
pipe  as  contribution  of  war? 

This  exasperated  the  Frenchman;  he  snorted   at 


136  'IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

my  father,  and  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  him- 
self wag  not  by  any  means  too  safe. 

My  father  was  a  brave  man,  and,  when  he  once 
saw  that  a  thing  was  right,  he  was  as  obstinate  as 
only  a  real  Mecklen burger  can  be.  He  knew,  he 
said,  that  no  honest  man  was  now  safe  in  his  own 
country,  but,  for  his  part,  he  held  it  to  be  his  duty 
to  stand  by  his  fellow-citizens  in  a  just  cause,  and 
he  would  do  so  even  if  there  were  so  many  French 
in  the  country  that  one  could  feed  the  pigs  with 
them. 

The  judge  foamed  with  rage,  and  sputtered  out 
the  command  to  arrest  my  father  at  once  and  lead 
him  out  of  the  room. 

As  this  command  was  about  to  be  carried  out, 
old  Witte  sprang  towards  the  judge  shouting, 
^Hhieves  and  villains;"  and  Miller  Voss  too  was 
ready  in  a  moment  to  aid  with  fist  and  tongue.  At 
this  moment  Colonel  von  Toll  came  back  again;  and, 
when  he  had  learned  what  was  the  meaning  of  the 
tumult,  he  said  that  the  baker  was  in  the  right 
about  the  pipe*,  he  had  himself  inquired  into  the 
matter,  but  that  it  was  quite  a  secondary  affair. 
This  baker  was  the  same  man  who  had  got  the 
chasseur's  horse  standing  in  his  stable,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  there  had  been  a  conspiracy  to  commit 
a  murder,  —  and,  as   he  said  that,  he  looked  very 


^N  THE   YEAR  '13.  J37 

sharply  at  my  father  —  and  the  truth  must  come 
out,  he  would  pledge  his  life;  and,  if  it  could  not 
be  got  out  here,  he  knew  a  place  where  it  could  — 
and  that  place  was  Stettin. 

My  father,  Miller  Voss,  and  the  baker  were  now 
told  to  go  out,  and  were  placed  under  guard  in 
another  room,  and  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  was 
called  up.  The  old  Herr  came  in  at  the  door,  with 
his  stick  in  his  hand,  as  upright  and  stately  as 
befits  a  chief  magistrate  and  a  good  conscience. 
One  of  the  French  wanted  to  shut  the  door  after 
him,  but  that  would  not  do  —  Mamsell  Westphalen 
forced  her  way  in,  and,  in  her  broad  wake,  fol- 
lowed Hanchen  and  Corlin;  for,  as  they  said,  they 
"did  not  want  to  stay  outside  to  be  stared  at  by 
those  horrid  Frenchmen;"  and  Mamsell  Westphalen 
said  as  she  squeezed  through,  "Pardong  Monsoo 
Frenchmen,  where  Herr  Amtshauptmann  is,  I  must 
be  too;  he  is  my  protector."  When  the  old  Herr 
entered,  the  colonel  turned  round  and  looked  out 
of  the  window. 

The  judge  now  asked  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann, 
through  the  interpreter,  who  he  was  and  what  was 
his  name. 

"I  am  chief  magistrate  here  in  the  bailiwick  of 
Stemhagen,  and  my  name  is  Joseph  Weber;"  and 
he  laid  his  hat  and  stick  on  a  chair. 


138  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

At  the  name  of  Joseph  Weber,  the  French 
colonel  turned  half  round ,  and  looked  at  the  Amts- 
hauptmann  as  if  he  were  going  to  ask  him  some 
question;  but  he  seemed  to  give  it  up  again,  and 
looked  out  at  the  window  once  more.  It  was  now 
signified  to  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  that  he  should 
take  a  seat. 

*'I  thank  you,"  he  said,  *'but  I  did  not  come 
here  to  take  my  ease,  and  I  am  not  enough  accus- 
tomed to  giving  evidence  to  be  able  to  do  so  sitting." 
He  then,  on  being  questioned,  related  how  the 
chasseur  had  first  come  to^him,  and  everything  that 
he  knew  about  it.  And  he  ended  his  speech  by 
saying  that,  if  it  was  to  be  reckoned  as  a  sin  that 
the  Miller  had  drunk  down  the  chasseur,  he  himself 
must  bear  the  blame  of  it,  for  it  was  at  his  request 
that  the  Miller  had  done  it,  and  the  Miller  was  his 
subordinate. 

At  this  the  judge  began  to  laugh  scornfully,  the 
idea  that  the  Burmeister  should  interfere  on  behalf 
of  his  baker,  and  the  Amtshauptmann  on  behalf  of 
his  miller,  seemed  too  ludicrous. 

"And  you  laugh  at  that?"  said  the  old  Herr 
calmly,  as  if  he  were  dealing  with  Fritz  Sahl- 
mann.  *'Is  not  that  the  custom  in  France?  Are 
officials  in  your  country  appointed  only  to  fleece 
people?     Don't   you  stand  by  them  when  they  are 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  139 

in  difficulties  and  in  the  right?  And  is  it  not  right 
for  one  to  rid  oneself  of  a  rogue  and  vagabond  by 
a  few  bottles  of  wine?" 

Well,  here  was  another  hard  hit  for  the  French 
judge.  *' Rogue  and  vagabond"  and  a  French  chas- 
seur were  things  that  could  in  no  way  be  coupled 
together,  or  rather  should  not  be.  The  judge  burst 
out  in  a  torrent  of  invective. 

The  Herr  Amtshauptmann  remained  unmoved, 
but  went  to  the  table  and  drew  out  of  the  French- 
man's valise  one  of  the  silver  spoons.  This  he  held 
up  to  the  judge  and  said,  —  "Do  you  see  this 
crest?  I  know  it,  and  I  know  the  people  to  whom 
it  belongs.  They  are  not  people  who  would  sell 
their  silver  spoons;  and  besides,  according  to  my 
ideas,  an  honest  soldier  has  something  else  to  do 
than  to  be  bargaining  for  silver  spoons." 

There  was  not  much  to  be  said  against  this,  so 
the  judge  cleverly  shifted  his  ground,  and  asked 
the  Amtshauptmann  how  the  watchmaker  had  come 
to  be  wearing  a  French  uniform,  and  what  he  had 
been  doing  up  at  the  Schloss  at  night? 

"There  you  ask  me  too  much,"  said  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann-,  "I  did  not  tell  him  to  come,  I  only 
just  saw  him  for  a  moment  when  the  Miller  was 
taking  the  chasseur  away  with  him;   and  his  spend- 


140  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

ing  tlie  night  at  the  Schloss  was  against  my  know- 
ledge and  against  my  will." 

The  judge  soon  saw  that  he  could  not  make 
much  of  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann ;  he  broke  off 
the  interview  and  told  the  old  gentleman  he  could 
go,  but  that  he  must  not  leave  the  Rathhaus. 

"Very  well,"  said  he,  and  he  turned  to  leave. 
"Good  day,  then,  till  the  matter  is  settled." 

As  the  Amtshauptmann  was  about  to  take  his 
hat  and  stick,  he  found  the  French  colonel,  who 
had  left  the  window  and  was  standing  close  by  him, 
intently  engaged  in  scanning  the  names  which  had 
been  cut  in  the  stick  in  Weber's  student  days.  He 
looked  as  eager  and  as  curious  as  if  he  were  seeking 
his  number  in  the  newspaper  advertisements  to  see 
whether  he  had  drawn  the  great  lottery  prize. 

The  Herr  Amtshauptmann  looked  at  him  for  one 
moment,  then  made  him  a  deep  bow,  —  "By  your 
leave,  Herr  Colonel,  my  stick." 

The  Colonel  started  and  looked  rather  confused, 
then  handed  him  the  stick,  and,  as  the  old  Herr 
went  out  of  the  room,  he  followed  him. 

Mamsell  Westphalen  also  wanted  to  follow,  and 
Hanchen  and  Corlin  were  preparing  to  go  too,  when 
"Halte,  halte!"  cried  the  Judge;  —  and  they  who 
did  not  get  out,  were  the  three  women. 

Many  a  time  afterwards  did  Mamsell  Westphalen 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  141 

relate  this  trial  and  what  she  had  felt  diiring  it,  but 
she  always  began  in  the  same  way,  —  that  it  had 
been  as  if  she  were  standing  in  the  Stemhagen  belfry, 
and  all  the  bells,  great  and  small,  were  ringing  in 
her  ears,  and,  when  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  went 
away  from  her,  it  was  as  if  a  white  dove  had  flown 
away  from  the  belfry  and  she  must  follow  him  to 
life  or  death;  but  the  fellow  whom  they  nick-named 
a  judge  had  held  her  fast  by  the  skirt  of  her  gown. 
*^And,  Frau  Meister,"  she  would  then  add,  "I  have 
seen  many  a  dozen  of  judges  in  my  life,  and  they 
were  all  bad  enough,  but  such  a  gallows-bird  as 
this  French  Judge  I  never  did  see.  For,  look  you 
Frau  Meister,  he  had  on  a  yellow  livery  and 
'gallows'  was  plainly  written  in  his  face." 

It  was  with  Mamsell  Westphalen  as  with  many 
honest  souls  who  have  a  great  terror  of  danger  that 
threatens  in  the  distance,  but  who  are  no  sooner  in 
the  middle  of  it  than  they  play  with  it;  being 
like  gnats,  which  cannot  bear  smoke  but  are  at- 
tracted by  fire.  When  she  saw  that  the  bridge  behind 
her  was  broken  away,  and  that  she  was  going  to 
be  put  on  oath,  she  set  her  arms  a-kimbo,  walked 
forward  and  stood  on  the  same  place  on  which  the 
Amtshauptmann  had  stood.  "For,"  she  said  after- 
wards, "I  had  seen  that  he  had  stood  proudly  there, 
and  his  spirit  came  over  me." 


142  IN   THE  YEAR  'l3. 

The  Judge  now  asked  what  she  knew  of  the 
watchmaker. 

*'I  know  nothing  about  him  except  that  he  speaks 
broken  German,  that,  for  bread,  he  says  ''doo  pang'' 
and  for  wine,  ^doo  vang;''  that's  all  I  know." 

How  was  it  that  he  was  in  a  French  uniform? 

"I  don't  know  how  he  gets  into  it  and  I  don't 
know  how  he  gets  out  of  it  again.  I  suppose  he  does 
like  all  other  men." 

Why  had  he  come  up  to  the  Schloss  last  night? 

"A  great  many  people  come  to  the  Schloss  —  all 
honest  people,  except  those  whom  the  gensdarmes 
bring,  —  and  if  I  am  to  bother  myself  with  what 
they  all  want,  the  duke  had  better  make  me  Amts- 
hauptmann,  and  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  can  then 
look  after  the  kitchen." 

Why  had  not  the  watchmaker  gone  home? 

"Because  the  weather  was  so  bad  that  one  could 
not  have  had  the  heart  to  drive  a  dog  out  of  the 
house,  much  less  a  Christian.  I  hold  the  man  for  a 
Christian,  though  he's  not  too  good  a  one,  for,  as  I 
have  heard  say,  he  goes  hunting  hares  by  night  — 
and  why  doesn't  he  go  in  the  daytime  like  other 
folk?  —  and  then  he  uses  a  stool  with  one  leg, 
which  he  straps  on  to  himself  behind,  and  every 
other  Christian  sits  on  a  stool  with  three  legs;  and 
he  wanted  to  mislead  our  Corlin  into  this  outlandish 


IN   THE  YEAR  *13.  143 

mode  for  milking,  but  she  told  him  plainly  that  if 
that  was  the  fashion  in  his  country,  he  might  run 
about  with  the  stool  tied  to  him  if  he  liked,  but  she 
was  not  going  to  make  herself  the  laughing-stock  of 
the  place." 

But  why  had  she  hidden  the  watchmaker  with 
her  in  her  room? 

At  this  Mamsell  Westphalen  was  silent,  the  blood 
rushed  into  her  face  at  the  impertinence  of  the  French 
fellow,  that  was  the  very  question  that  had  driven 
her  into  flight  up  in  the  garret.  But  while  in  her 
distress  she  was  seeking  for  an  answer,  help  came. 
Hanchen  Besserdich  and  Corlin  pressed  forward  to 
her  side  and  burst  out  "Those  are  lies*,  those  are 
foul  lies!"  They  would  take  their  oath  of  it.  Their 
Mamsell  had  slept  with  them*,  and  they  should  tell 
the  Herr  Amtshaup-mann. 

The  noise  became  dreadful,  and  scarcely  had  the 
Judge  succeeded  in  restoring  quiet,  when  they  broke 
out  again,  and  at  last  the  Judge  ordered  them  all 
three  to  be  turned  out. 

"Frau  Meister,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen  after- 
wards to  the  weaver's  wife,  "you  know  I've  always 
been  against  Hanchen  Besserdich's  sharp  tongue,  but 
no  angel  could  have  helped  me  better  at  that  mo- 
ment than  she  with  her  chatter.  Frau  Meister,  Man 
must  not  despise  what,   at  times,   is  disagreeable  to 


144  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

him;  who  knows  of  what  use  it  may  not  be.  And 
a  sharp  tongue  is  one  of  those  things.  That^s  what  I 
say  and  that's  what  I  hold  to.  And  I  shan't  forget 
the  girl." 


IN   THE   YEAR  '13.  145 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Tells  how  the  Amtshauptmann  and  the  French  Colonel  nearly  em- 
braced each  other ;  how  my  Mother  pulled  the  Amtshauptmann  by 
the  tail  of  his  coat ;  and  how  the  Corsican  dragon  carried  off  my 
Father  and  my  uncle  Herse. 

When  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  left  the  Court 
of  Justice,  he  went  straight  across  to  the  other  side 
of  the  hall  to  a  place  where  he  had  often  been  be- 
fore and  often  came  afterwards,  namely  my  mother's 
room  —  for  we  lived  in  the  Rathhaus. 

My  mother  sat  knitting,  and  we  children  were 
playing  about  her;  for  what  do  children  know  of 
cares?  But  she  was  sad  and  anxious;  she  sat  there 
silent  and  perhaps  did  not  even  hear  the  noise  which 
we  were  making  round  her.  She  probably  still 
knew  nothing  of  the  difficulty  in  which  my  father 
was,  for  it  was  not  his  custom  to  tell  all  his  little 
troubles;  but  there  is  a  curious  fact  about  women 
—  a  man  may  see  at  once  which  way  the  wind 
blows,  but  a  woman  will  have  known  a  long  time 
before  that  a  change  was  at  hand.  —  Well,  the  old 
Herr  came  into  my  mother's  room  and  said,  — 

"Good  morning,  my  dear  friend.    How  are  you? 

Jn  the  Year  '13.  10 


146  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

Much  troubled  with  all  these  Frenchmen?  What 
say  you,  eh?" 

My  mother  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  She  was 
very  fond  of  the  fine  old  man  who  used  to  come 
and  sit  by  her  side  for  many  an  hour,  pouring  out, 
in  his  simple  and  open-hearted  way,  the  experience 
of  his  grey  hairs.  Not  but  what  he  was  merry  and 
lively  enough  when  he  related  the  exploits  of  his 
Jena  student-days,  and  what  he  and  his  brother, 
Adolph  Diedrich,  —  ''The  Professor  juris  utriusque 
at  Rostock,  my  friend  — "  had  done  in  their  students- 
society,  the  "amici."  My  mother  held  out  her  hand 
to  him,  for  she  could  not  get  up;  she  had  become 
lame  during  a  severe  illness,  and  I  never  saw  her 
otherwise  than,  —  when  she  was  at  her  best,  —  sit- 
ting on  a  chair  knitting  away  as  industriously  as  if  her 
poor,  weak  hands  were  strong  and  well;  or,  —  at  her 
weaker  times,  —  lying  in  bed,  in  pain,  reading  her 
books.  What  the  books  were  which  she  read,  I 
know  no  longer;  but  novels  they  were  not;  I  only 
remember  this  much,  that  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann's 
Marcus  Aurelius  was  sometimes  amongst  them,  for  I 
had  to  carry  it  backwards  and  forwards. 

It  was  not  the  Amtshauptmann's  habit  needlessly 
to  alarm  women,  and  so  instead  of  talking  about  the 
troubles  in  the  Court  of  Justice,  he  began  about  the 
bad  weather,  and  he  was  just  giving  a  short  descrip- 


IN   THE   YEAR  '13.  <147 

tion  of  the  pools  in  tlie  Steinliagen  market-place  — 
for  it  was  not  paved  in  those  days,  —  when  the 
door  opened  and  the  French  colonel  came  in.  He 
made  my  mother  a  stiff  bow,  and  advanced  towards 
the  Amtshauptmann. 

We  children  left  our  playthings  and  crept,  in  a 
little  knot,  into  the  corner  behind  the  tile-stove,  like 
chickens  when  a  kite  is  overhead,  and  wondered  what 
this  meant.  Probably  my  mother  also  wondered, 
for  she  gazed  anxiously  at  the  old  Herr  in  whose 
face  there  was  a  cold,  haughty  look  that  she  had 
never  seen  before. 

But  the  Colonel  did  not  take  it  ill,  and  there 
was  a  friendly  politeness  in  his  tone  as  he  said  to 
the  old  gentleman,  "I  beg  your  pardon.  I  heard 
just  now  in  the  court  the  name  of  'Weber.'  Is  your 
name  'Weber?'" 

"Joseph  Heinrich  Weber,"  replied  the  Amts- 
hauptmann shortly  and  stood  as  erect  as  a  pillar. 

"Have  you  not  a  brother  named  'Adolph  Died- 
rich?'" 

"Adolph  Diedrich,  professor  at  Rostock,"  an- 
swered the  old  Herr  without  moving  a  limb. 

"Herr  Amtshauptmann,"  said  the  French  officer 
and  stretched  out  both  hands  towards  him,  "let 
what  passed  between  us  tliis  morning  be  forgotten. 
You    are    dearer    to    me   than   you  think.      I   have 

10 -^^ 


148  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

read  a  name  on  your  stick  tliat  is  engraved  deeply 
in  my  heart.     Look  here  'Eenatus  von  Toll!'" 

"And  you  know  that  man?"  asked  the  old  Herr, 
and  it  was  as  if  the  sun  had  risen  over  his  face. 

"How  should  I  not?"  said  the  Colonel,  "why, 
he  is  my  father." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  Amtshauptmann.  "What 
say  you,  eh?  What  say  you,  eh?"  And  he  held 
the  colonel  out  at  arm's  length  and  looked  into  his 
eyes.     "You  the  son  of  Renatus  von  Toll?" 

"Yes,  and  he  has  often  spoken  to  me  of  his 
two  best  friends,  'the  Webers,'  Hhe  tall  Mecklen- 
burgers.'" 

"My  friend,"  cried  the  old  Herr,  turning  to  my 
mother,  "of  whom  have  I  talked  to  you  oftenest? 
What  say  you,  eh?  Of  the  fine  Westphalian,  Re- 
natus?" 

My  mother  nodded  her  head ;  she  could  not  speak, 
for  there  was  something  in  the  old  gentleman's  de- 
light that  brought  the  tears  into  her  eyes-,  and  we 
silly  youngsters  came  out  from  behind  the  stove 
and  grew  bolder,  and  it  all  seemed  to  us  as  happy 
as  if  one  of  our  cousins  had  come. 

"My  boy,  my  boy!"  cried  the  Amtshauptmann, 
"I  ought  to  have  known  you,  if  the  damned  French 
uniform  ....  No,  no,  I  did  not  mean  to  say  that," 
he  added  quickly  as  be  saw  the  blood  rush  into 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  149 

the  Colonel's  face.  "Tell  me,  my  boy,  has  your 
father  still  the  clear  brown  eyes?  What  say  you, 
eh?  Has  he  still  the  curly  brown  hair?  —  Such  a 
splendid  man  he  was,  my  friend!"  said  he  to  my 
mother,  "God  has  written  the  word  *man'  on  his 
forehead." 

The  Colonel  now  said  that  the  brown  eyes  were 
still  there,  but  that  the  hair  had  turned  white. 

"True,  true,"  said  the  Amtshauptmann ,  "of 
course.  It  must  be  so;  Adolph  Diedrich's  is  quite 
grey  too.  But  now,  friend,  you  must  come  up  to 
the  Schloss  with  me  and  stop  there  awhile.  God 
knows,  this  is  the  first  time  that  I  ever  invited  a 
French  officer  to  stay  with  me.  But  you  are  not 
properly  a  French  officer,  you  are  a  German.  — 
The  son  of  Renatus  von  Toll  can  only  be  an  honest 
German,  my  friend,"  he  said  turning  to  my  mother. 
"What  say  you,  eh?" 

My  mother  had  seen  that  the  Colonel  turned  hot 
and  cold  alternately  during  this  speech  of  the  Amts- 
hauptmann's,  and  she  had  made  all  manner  of  signs 
to  him,  but  in  vain*,  and,  on  his  coming  nearer  to  her, 
as  he  asked  the  last  question,  she  plucked  him  gently 
by  his  coat-tail  as  a  sign  to  him  to  be  quiet.  At 
this,  the  old  Herr  turned  sharply  round  and  asked  - — 

"Why  are  you  pulling  me?" 

It  was  now  my  mother's  turn  to  be   red.     But, 


4^^  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

in  the  meanwhile,  the  colonel  had  recovered  himself*, 
he  made  a  sort  of  half-bow  to  my  mother ,  and  said 
firmly  and  earnestly  to  the  old  Herr,  — 

"I  must  refuse  your  invitation,  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann,  for  we  march  in  half  an  hour.  And,  as  con- 
cerns this  uniform  which  does  not  please  you,  — 
and  cannot  please  you,  I  grant  it  —  I  cannot  dis- 
honour it  by  taking  it  off  in  the  hour  of  danger. 
You  say  that  I  am  a  German,  my  father's  son  must 
be  a  German  —  you  are  right  —  but,  if  you  regard 
it  as  a  crime  that  I  am  on  the  other  side,  you  must 
lay  the  blame  on  my  sovereign  and  not  on  me. 
When  I  became  a  soldier,  the  Elector  of  Cologne 
was  in  league  with  the  Emperor;  and  when  I  went 
to  Spain  four  years  ago  the  whole  of  Germany 
and  all  her  princes  lay  at  his  feet.  I  returned 
from  Spain  three  weeks  ago,  and  I  find  Germany 
quite  changed.  What  I  have  felt  concerns  myself 
alone,  and  if  there  is  any  human  soul  to  whom  I 
can  speak  of  it,  it  can  only  be  my  father.  For  my 
father's  oldest  friend  this  must  be  enough-,  it  is 
more  than  I  have  said  to  any  other  human  being." 

The  old  Herr  had  been  standing  at  the  beginning 
of  this  speech,  looking  the  Colonel  straight  in  the 
face,  and  every  now  and  then  giving  a  shake  of  his 
head-,  but,  as  he  became  aware  that  there  was  a  sad 
earnestness  in  the  young  man's  face,  his  eyes  sought 


IN   THE   YEAR  '13.  151 

another  place  to  rest  on,  and  when  the  Colonel  had 
ended,  he  said,  "That's  quite  another  matter;"  and 
he  leant  towards  my  mother  and  said,  "My  friend, 
what  say  you,  eh?  He  is  right,  is  he  not?  Renatus 
von  Toll's  son  is  right.  Pity,  that  he  is  right!"  and 
he  took  the  Colonel  hy  the  hand:  "My  dear  young 
friend,  —  and  so  you  cannot  stay  here?"  And,  on 
the  colonel's  assuring  him  that  it  was  not  possible, 
he  cried  out  to  me,  "Fritz,  boy,  you  can  run  an 
errand  for  me*,  run  to  Neiting  —  to  the  Frau  Amts- 
hauptmann,  —  and  tell  her  to  come  down  here,  some- 
thing joyful  has  happened.  Do  you  hear?  Say 
something  joyful.  She  might  else  be  anxious,  my 
friend,"  he  added  to  my  mother. 

Well,  away  I  ran  as  fast  as  I  could  up  to  the 
Schloss,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  Frau  Amts- 
hauptmann  was  walking  along  by  my  side  slowly 
and  quietly  as  was  her  wont,  and  I  hopped  round 
about  her  like  a  little  water-wagtail,  so  that  she  had 
enough  to  do  to  keep  me  from  under  the  waggons 
and  from  the  horses'  feet. 

As  we  crossed  the  market-place  the  French  were 
fast  getting  ready  to  march.  The  guns  stood  there 
with  the  horses  fastened  to  them;  the  battalion  was 
formed  into  line;  and  one  could  see  that  they  were 
on  the  point  of  starting. 

The  Frau  Amtshauptmann  went  into  the  Rath- 


152  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

haus,  but  slie  did  not  get  far,  for  she  was  seized 
upon  in  the  hall  by  Mamsell  Westphalen  and  the 
two  maids;  and,  before  she  knew  where  she  was 
going,  she  was  in  the  midst  of  complaints,  about 
"murder  and  killing,"  from  Witte  the  baker,  and 
Droz,  and  Miller  Voss,  each  one  telling  her  his  story; 
and  round  them  and  their  complaints,  gathered  Herr 
Droi's  wife  and  children,  crying  and  entreating;  and 
the  Frau  Meister  Stahl  caught  Mamsell  Westphalen 
by  the  skirt  of  her  gown,  as  if  Mamsell  were  going 
to  spring  into  the  water,  and  she  must  save  her 
from  suicide.  Witte  still  every  now  and  then  fired 
off  a  "robbers,"  but  there  was  not  more  than  half  a 
charge  of  powder  left  in  him,  and,  when  he  saw  the 
grief  of  the  watchmaker's  wife,  he  thought  of  his 
own  family,  and  called  to  me;  — 

"Fritz,  will  you  run  over  to  my  house,  my  boy? 
You  shall  have  a  bun  for  it,  —  and  call  to  my  son 
Johann  and  my  daughter  Striiwingken,  and  tell 
them  they  are  to  come  over  here,  for  the  rascally 
French  are  going  to  take  me  to  their  God-forgotten 
country  as  they  have  already  done  my  brown  five- 
year- old." 

I  gave  the  message,  and  when  I  came  back  again 
with  Striiwingken  and  Johann  and  the  bun,  there 
were  Miller  Voss's  cousin  Heinrich  and  the  Miller's 
wife  and  Fieka  in  Heinrich's  cart  before  the  Rath- 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  153 

haus;  for,  after  all,  the  mounted  Gensdarmes  had 
found  their  way  to  the  Gielow  Mill  at  last  and  had 
cleared  out  the  nest.  Now  the  sobbing  and  crying 
began  again,  and  the  only  one  who  remained  quiet 
was  Fieka.     She  asked  her  father  softly,  — 

"Have  you  given  up  the  money?" 

The  Miller  pointed  towards  the  court  of  justice, 
and  said,  "It  lies  there." 

"Then  be  of  good  heart,  father;  God  will  not 
forsake  us." 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  my  father  had 
been  walking  up  and  down  the  hall  wrapped  in  his 
own  thoughts.  He  cannot  have  been  easy  in  his 
mind,  for  he  constantly  stopped  for  a  moment  and 
passed  his  hand  through  his  hair  when  he  heard  the 
wailing  of  the  women,  and  once  he  went  up  to  Herr 
Droi  and  told  him  he  need  not  be  alarmed  as  things 
did  not  look  badly  for  him. 

Herr  Droi  nodded  his  head  and  said,  "Bon!" 
became  a  whole  inch  taller,  planted  one  leg  out  in 
front  of  the  other,  and  put  one  arm  confidently 
akimbo. 

It  seemed  now  as  if  everything  was  ready  for 
marching,  for  the  Adjutant  called  the  colonel  out  of 
my  mother's  room.  When  the  colonel  came  out  his 
face  had  become  pleasant  again,  and  he  went,  with  the 
Amtshauptmann,  towards  the  prisoners  and  ordered 


154  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 

that  Mamsell  Westphalen  and  the  two  maids  should 
be  set  free;  and  Mamsell  Westphalen  ducked  three 
times  by  way  of  curtseying  and  said  —  "I  thank 
you,  Herr  Colonel  von  Toll." 

The  Herr  Amtshauptmann  caught  sight  of  his 
wife  in  the  crowd,  and  set  her  also  free  and,  scarcely 
had  he  introduced  her  to  the  Colonel  and  told  her 
what  had  happened,  when  the  Adjutant  gave  the 
commands  to  march  and  Miller  Voss,  Witte  the 
baker  and  Herr  Droz  to  bring  out. 

Fieka  had  taken  her  father's  arm,  and  would 
not  let  it  go.  They  forced  her  away  from  him, 
but  she  remained  quite  quiet  and  said,  "Father,  I 
shall  stay  by  you  wherever  they  may  take  you." 

For  the  baker  it  was  easier  work;  he  spat  three 
times,  let  off  at  random  a  few  "rogues  and  vaga- 
bonds," told  Johann  shortly  what  he  was  to  do,  and 
went  out.  But,  with  the  watchmaker  the  case  was 
very  sad:  his  wife  and  children  hung  about  him,  and 
cried,  in  French  and  German,  till  it  would  have 
moved  the  very  stones  to  pity. 

My  father  could  now  stand  it  no  longer;  he 
stepped  forward,  and  asked  upon  what  ground  the 
watchmaker  was  to  be  led  away  prisoner.  The  man 
was  a  naturalised  citizen,  and  had  never  in  his  life 
committed  any  crime.     No  one  could  reckon  it  as  a 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  165 

crime  that  he  had  slept  up  at  the  Schloss,  for  the 
Herr  Colonel  and  the  Herr  Adjutant  had  also  slept 
up  there.  As  to  his  having  on  the  uniform,  why 
that  was  natural,  seeing  that  he  had  served  under 
the  French,  and  his  still  putting  it  on  now  and  then 
could  not  be  taken  ill  by  them ,  for  the  man  showed 
by  doing  so  that  he  still  thought  with  pleasure  of 
the  time  when  he  had  worn  it  in  their  ranks. 

"He  has  abused  the  uniform!"  shouted  the  Ad- 
jutant. 

My  father  cried  back  that  it  was  not  true;  that 
it  was  no  abuse,  when  anyone  got  rid  of  a  pack  of 
thieves  and  rascals  by  an  innocent  trick*,  and  the 
proof  that  they  had  had  to  deal  with  fellows  of  that 
sort  was  to  be  found  in  the  Chasseur's  valise. 

The  Adjutant  looked  at  my  father  savagely 
and  spitefully,  as  if  he  would  have  liked  to  run  him 
through  the  body;  the  colonel  stepped  up  with  a  face 
hi  which  a  thunderstorm  was  gathering,  and  made 
a  sign  with  his  hand  to  lead  away  the  watchmaker; 
but  my  father  sprang  forward  and  cried,  — 

"Stop!  The  man  is  innocent,  and  if  any  one 
here  is  guilty,  it  is  I,  for  it  was  at  my  command 
that  he  acted.  If  anyone  is  to  be  arrested  for  it, 
you  must  arrest  me." 

"Be  it  so,"  said  the  colonel  coldly,  "let  that 
man  free,  and  take  this  one  here." 


156  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

"My  friend,"  cried  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann, 
"what  are  you  doing?" 

"My  duty,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,"  said  the  Co- 
lonel and  gave  him  his  hand.  "Farewell,  Herr 
Amtshauptmann,  my  time  is  up,"  and  so  saying,  he 
went  out  of  the  house. 

The  whole  thing  was  done  so  quickly  that  the 
greater  number  of  those  who  were  there  did  not 
know  what  the  question  was.  I  least  of  all,  for  I 
was  still  but  a  little  mite  then-,  but  I  understood 
enough  to  see  that  my  father  had  got  himself  into 
danger.  Naturally,  I  now  began  to  cry,  and  just 
as  the  little  Droi's  were  drying  their  tears,  mine 
were  running  down  my  cheeks.  I  followed  close  on 
my  father's  heels  as  he  was  pushed  out  into  the 
street-,  the  Amtshauptmann  also  followed. 

"Herr  Amtshauptmann,"  said  my  father,  "com- 
fort my  poor  wife.  And  you  Fritz,"  he  said  to  me, 
"go  and  fetch  my  hat." 

I  ran  in,  and  got  the  hat,  and  when  I  brought  it 
to  him,  he  lifted  me  up  and  kissed  me  and  whispered 
in  my  ear,  "Tell  your  mother  I  shall  soon  be  back 
again." 

The  procession  now  set  off,  two  men  in  front 
and  two  behind  and,  in  the  middle,  Miller  Voss, 
Witte  the  baker,   and  my   father.     As  they  passed 


IN   THE   YEAR  '13.  157 

by  the  engine-house,  the  door  opened,  and  who 
should  come  out,  but  my  uncle,  the  Rathsherr  Herse, 
also  with  two  men;  for  the  colonel  of  artillery  had 
had  him  locked  up  there  on  account  of  the  escape 
of  the  peasants  with  their  -teams. 

"Why,  Herr  Rathsherr,  what  has  happened  to 
you?"  said  my  father. 

"It's  for  the  Fatherland,  Herr Burmeister,"  cried 
my  uncle  Herse,  "I  entered  into  a  conspiracy  with 
Mamsell  Westphalen;  and  now  the  Corsican  dragon 
has  got  me  in  his  claws;  but  it  really  is  because  of 
Miller  Voss's  horse  and  cart  and  the  stupid  old 
peasants." 

They  now  briefly  told  each  other  their  stories, 
and  my  uncle  Herse  marched  down  the  street,  with 
his  cocked  hat  and  red  collar,  so  majestically  that 
he  looked  almost  as  if  he  were  commanding  the 
whole.  My  uncle  Herse  was  no  coward;  he  was  not 
afraid;  he  regarded  this  as  a  day  of  the  greatest 
glory  to  him  and,  looking  as  if  he  had  grown  a 
couple  of  inches  taller  from  the  rain  during  the  night, 
he  walked  along  the  Brandenburg  road,  greeting 
right  and  left.  Christians  and  Jews.  He  winked  to 
the  Captain  of  the  Fire  Brigade  not  to  betray  what 
he  knew;  and  put  his  finger  to  his  lips  as  he  passed 
by  Solomon's  the  Jew  as  a  sign  that  he  was  to  be 
silent,     And  scarcely  was  he  outside  the  gate  when 


158  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

old  Stalil,  the  weaver,  began  telling  everybody  that 
the  French  had  taken  the  Herr  Rathsherr  with  them ; 
they  were  going  to  make  him  a  general,  —  but  the 
others  would  all  be  hanged. 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13'.  159 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

Why  Fritz  Sahlmann  fell  in  the  mud;  why  Bank,  the  shoemaker,  got  a 
blow  with  the  butt-end  of  a  musket ;  why  Rathsherr  Herse  wished 
to  set  fire  to  all  the  mills  in  the  country;  and  why  the  King  of 
Prussia  always  kept  a  place  at  his  table  for  the  Rathsherr. 

When  our  prisoners  got  outside  the  Branden- 
burg gate,  they  marched  with  their  two  men  in  front 
and  two  behind,  across  the  bridge,  along  the  Bran- 
denburg lane,  —  for,  though  called  a  road  it  was 
only  a  lane,  there  being  in  those  days  no  high  roads 
in  Mecklenburg,  —  and  when  they  came  to  the 
narrow  pass  leading  up  to  the  Windmill  hill  to 
which  the  Stemhagen  folk  have  given  the  names  of, 
"Killhorse"  and  "Break-neck,"  the  guard  commanded 
"Halt,"  for  they  could  go  no  further. 

The  whole  of  the  artillery  lay  in  the  pass,  and 
had  sunk  so  deep  in  the  mud  that,  if  all  the  horses 
of  the  neighbourhood  had  been  at  hand  —  which 
they  were  not  —  they  could  not  have  pulled  this 
heap  of  misfortune  out  of  it.  There  lay  the  French 
now,  and  cursed  and  swore.  Labourers  were  fetched 
from  the  town  with  spades  and  shovels,  and  fresh 
horses  were  sent  for  from  Jiirnsdorf  and  Klaukow, 


160  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

and  all  the  while  it  rained  so  heavily  that  no  one 
could  keep  a  dry  thread  on  his  back. 

"Neighbour  Voss,"  said  baker  Witte  "what  do 
you  say  to  this  rain?" 

"Fine  weather  for  late  barley,"  replied  the 
Miller,  "if  folks  have  sown  any." 

"My  shirt  is  wringing  wet,"  said  the  baker! 

"And  my  boots  are  filling  with  water,"  said  the 
Miller. 

"Herr  Burmeister,  come  behind  me*,  my  cloak 
will  give  you  some  shelter,"  said  my  uncle  Herse, 
and  he  made  himself  a  little  bit  broader  than  nature 
had  already  made  him.  "I  am  only  glad  that  these 
'slaves  of  the  tyrant'  will  get  a  wetting  through  and 
through." 

My  father  got  under  the  cloak,  but  said  nothing, 
for  something  had  caught  his  eye. 

Above,  on  the  edge  of  the  narrow  pass  a  group 
of  people  were  standing:  labourers,  servants  and 
Stemhagen  burghers,  who  had  followed  the  proces- 
sion in  spite  of  the  rain  and  bad  weather,  partly 
from  curiosity  and  partly  from  sympathy,  and 
amongst  these  people  Fritz  Sahlmann  was  slipping 
in  and  out,  telling  the  whole  story  first  to  one  and 
then  to  another  of  those  who  did  not  yet  know  it. 
When  my  father  first  caught  sight  of  him,  he  was 
standing    close    by    Inspector  Brasig   of   Jiirnsdorf, 


IX  THE  YEAR  '13.  161 

who  had  come  on  horseback,  and  had  to  ride  along- 
side of  the  French  army,  lest  he  should  never  see 
his  team-horses  again. 

The  Inspector  was  an  old  friend  of  my  father's, 
and  my  father  could  clearly  see  that  old  Brasig 
nodded  to  him  and  whispered  something  in  Fritz 
Sahlmann's  ear,  when  the  boy  told  him  of  the 
scrape.  Fritz  Sahlmann  now  stuck  his  hands  in  his 
trowsers'  pockets,  and  began  whistling-,  whistled  him- 
self along  the  edge;  whistled  himself  down  the 
bank-,  when  nearly  at  the  bottom  cleverly  caught 
his  foot  in  the  root  of  an  old  willow,  stumbled  quite 
naturally  towards  the  prisoners*,  and,  when  close  to 
my  father,  fell  in  the  mud  as  if  he  could  not  help 
it  in  the  least. 

My  father  bent  down  and  raised  him  up. 

"Watch  the  horse,"  whispered  Fritz. 

He  could  say  no  more  for  he  was  at  once  driven 
off  by  the  French,  and  he  climbed  up  the  bank 
again. 

If,  before,  my  father  had  paid  attention  to  the 
movements  of  the  Inspector  and  the  lad,  he  now 
did  so  doubly.  He  watched  old  Brasig  get  down 
from  his  horse,  crack  his  riding -whip  and  give  it 
into  Fritz  Sahlmann's  hand;  the  boy  now  began  to 
lead  the  horse  up  and  down,  but  always  a  little 
lower  on  the  bank,  till  at  last  he  stood  still  under  a 

In  the  Year  '13.  11 


I 

162  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

willow-tree  as  if  lie  were  seeking  shelter  there  from 
the  rain.  From  this  place  he  made  a  sign  to  my 
father,  and  my  father,  who  stood  under  the  cover 
of  my  uncle  Herse's  broad  back,  waved  his  hat  three 
times  as  if  he  were  shaking  the  rain  from  it. 

Presently,  a  coach -and -four  came  round  the 
corner  where  the  Brandenburg  Lane  meets  the 
Ivenack  Lane  and,  in  it,  sat  a  general  who  had 
been  quartered  on  the  Graf  of  Ivenack  the  night 
before.  It,  too,  drove  up  the  pass  and,  when  it 
came  to  the  place  where  the  transport  had  stuck 
fast,  some  confusion  arose  amongst  the  soldiers  in 
getting  out  of  the  way,  and  no  sooner  did  my 
father  observe  this ,  than  he  flew ,  as  if  shot  out  of 
a  pistol,  from  behind  the  Herr  Rathsherr's  cloak,  up 
the  bank  on  the  other  side  of  the  coach,  to  the 
willow-tree,  snatched  whip  and  bridle  out  of  Fritz 
Sahlmann's  hands,  jumped  on  to  the  horse,  and  — 
quick  as  lightning  —  was  down  the  hill. 

^'' Feu ^  feu!'"  shouted  the  French*,  "click,  click," 
went  the  hammers,  but  no  response  came  from  the 
old  firelocks,  for  the  powder  was  as  wet  —  as  Stahl 
the  weaver's  coffee  grounds. 

For  one  short  instant,  it  seemed  as  if  the  Stem- 
hagen  burghers,  when  they  saw  their  Burmeister 
riding  over  hedge  and  ditch,  were  going  to  give  him 
three  cheers;   and  Bank  the  shoemaker  was  just  be- 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  163 

ginning  "Our  Burmeister  viv  .  .  ."  when  the  butt- 
end  of  a  French  musket  applied  between  his 
shoulders  clearly  hinted  to  him  that  he  had  better 
be  off.  His  example  was  followed  by  the  others 
and,  in  a  twinkling,  the  place  was  clear  of  every- 
body except  Inspector  Brasig,  who  had  stationed 
himself  against  a  tree  and  was  smoking  a  pipe  with 
the  greatest  calmness. 

Now,  whether  no  one  had  observ^ed  that  he  had 
come  on  horseback,  or  whether  the  French  had  dis- 
tinctly seen  that  he  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  my 
father's  escape,  he  having  stood  a  long  way  off 
from  his  horse  —  whatever  it  was,  nothing  was  said 
to  him. 

The  other  three  prisoners,  however,  got  a  double 
guard,  and  were  brought  away  out  of  the  pass  into 
an  open  field,  and  thence,  to  the  old  windmill  from 
which  the  hill  took  its  name,  as  it  was  a  little  drier 
there.  Here  they  sat  back  to  back  on  a  mill- 
stone and  talked  together. 

"It's  a  good  thing  for  the  Burmeister,"  said  old 
Witte,  as  he  combed  his  wet  hair  with  his  brass 
comb,  "that  he  has  got  away,  but  it's  bad  for  us. 
We  are  now  like  a  swarm  of  bees  without  a  queen. 
He  would  have  been  sure  to  have  got  us  all  off 
sooner  or  later." 

"Well,    neighbour,    it    can't    be   helped,"    said 

11* 


164  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

Miller  Voss,  and  he  nodded  his  head  to  Inspector 
Brasig  who  had  also  taken  shelter  in  the  mill. 

"Hm!  Meister  Witte,"  broke  in  my  uncle  Herse, 
"he  is  well  up  in  town  matters,  I  don't  deny  it;  but 
as  to  war-matters  —  to  what  concerns  military  affairs 
—  why  he  has  never  in  his  life  given  the  least 
attention  to  them,  and  he  knows  about  as  much 
of  them  as  .  .  as  .  ." 

"As  you  or  I,  Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  the  Miller 
innocently. 

"Miller  Voss,"  said  the  Rathsherr  and  he  drew 
himself  up,  making  himself  an  inch  taller,  "speak 
for  yourself,  if  you  please,  and  not  for  others.  What 
you  know  of  such  matters  has  all  been  learned  since 
yesterday  afternoon;  for  you  and  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann  and  the  Burmeister  have  brought  us  into  this 
mess,  and,  if  I  had  not  come  to  the  rescue,  Mamsell 
Westphalen  would  be  sitting  here  too,  with  her 
teeth  chattering.  What  /  know,  I  will  soon  give 
you  a  proof  of.     Do  you  know  Jahn?" 

"Do  you  mean  old  Jahn  of  Peenhauser,  who 
mends  pots  for  my  wife?" 

"Bah!  I  mean  'Gymnast- Jahn,'  who  is  now 
in  Berlin,  the  brother-in-law  of  Kolloffen  of 
Lukow." 

"No,  I  don't  know  the  man." 

"Well    then,   listen.      One   day  this   'Gymnast- 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  165 

Jahn'  was  walking  along  the  streets  of  Berlin  with 
a  student  when  they  came  to  the  Brandenburg 
Gate  —  for  the  Berliners  have  got  a  Brandenburg 
Gate  just  as  much  as  the  Stemhageners ,  —  and  he 
pointed  to  the  place  where  the  Goddess  of  Victory, 
which  the  French  had  carried  off,  had  formerly 
stood;  and  he  asked  the  student  what  thought  came 
into  his  head  at  the  sight.  —  ^None.'  —  Smack!  he 
gave  him  a  sound  box  on  the  ear." 

*'That  was  cool,"  said  the  Miller. 

"Yes,  Herr  Kathsherr,"  said  old  Witte,  "my 
hand  is  pretty  ready,  but  ..." 

"Let  me  finish  first,  will  you?"  said  my  uncle 
Herse.  'Master  Good-for-nothing,'  said  Gymnast- 
Jahn,  seeing  the  student's  astonishment,  *that  will 
teach  you  to  think  in  future.  You  should  have 
thought  on  seeing  that  place  that  we  must  get  the 
Goddess  of  Victory  back  again  from  Paris.' " 

"Yes  but  .  .  ."  said  Witte. 

"That's  all  very  well  but  .  .  ."  said  the  Miller. 

The  Herr  Rathsherr  however  did  not  let  them 
get  possession  of  the  field,  but  turned  to  the  Miller 
and  said,  —  "Now  I  ask  you.  Miller  Voss,  when 
you  see  this  mill,  what  idea  comes  into  your  head?" 

"Herr  Eathsherr,"  said  the  Miller,  and  he  got 
up  and  stood  a  little  distance  off,  "I  hope  you 
don't  mean  to  treat  me  in  that  manner?" 


166  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

"I  only  ask  you,  Miller  Voss,  what  idea  comes 
into  your  head?" 

"Well,''  said  the  Miller,  "what  idea  ought  to 
come?  I  think  it's  a  rusty  old  thing,  and  that,  in 
Spring,  it  ought  to  have  new  sails;  and  that,  if  the 
stones  above  are  no  better  than  these  down  here, 
the  Stemhagen  folk  must  get  a  devilish  lot  of  sand 
along  with  their  flour." 

"And  you're  right  there,  neighbour,"  said  the 
baker. 

"And  he's  wrong  there!"  cried  my  uncle  Herse. 
"If  he  had  answered  properly  he  would  have  said 
that  it  must  be  set  fire  to.  And  it  will  be  set  fire 
to;  all  the  mills  in  the  whole  country  must  be  set 
fire  to."  And  he  stood  up  and  walked,  with  long 
strides  round  about  the  mill-stones. 

"Lord  save  us!"  said  Miller  Voss.  "Who  is  to 
do  this  wickedness?" 

"I,"  said  my  uncle  Herse,  and  he  slapped  him- 
self on  the  breast  and  went  nearer  to  the  two,  who 
wondered  what  could  be  coming  next,  and  said,  in  a 
low  voice:  "When  the  Landsturm*  rises,  we  must  set 
fire  to  all  the  mills  as  a  signal ;  —  that's  called  a 
beacon,  and  the  best  proof  you  know  nothing  about 
war -matters  is,  that  you  don't  even  know  what  a 
beacon  means." 

*  Levy  en  masse. 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  167 

"Herr  Ratlisherr,"  said  Miller  Voss,  "it's  all  the 
same  to  me  whether  it's  a  beacon  or  a  deacon,  but, 
whoever  sets  fire  to  my  water-mill,  had  better  look 
out." 

"Watermill?  Windmills  I  mean,  Miller  Voss; 
who  ever  said  anything  about  watermills?  Water- 
mills  lie  in  the  ground  and  don't  burn.  And  now, 
I  ask  you,  has  the  Burmeister  as  much  knowledge 
and  courage  to  act  in  time  of  war  as  I  have?" 

"He's  never  said  he  would  set  mills  on  fire," 
said  the  baker,  and  looked  at  the  Herr  Rathsherr 
rather  doubtfully  as  if  he  did  not  quite  know  whether 
he  was  in  fun  or  earnest. 

"My  dear  Witte,  you  look  at  me  like  a  cow  at 
a  new  gate.  You  are,  no  doubt  astonished  and 
thinking  what  does  a  Stemhagen  Rathsherr  like  me, 
know  of  war  and  stratagems?  My  dear  Witte,  you 
knead  your  dough  with  your  hands,  in  the  baking- 
trough;  I  knead  mine  in  my  head  by  thought.  If 
I  were  where  I  ought  to  be,  I  should  be  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  King  of  Prussia,  talking  with  the  man. 
'Your  Majesty,'  I  should  say,  'you  are  rather  in  dif- 
ficulties, I  think?'  'That  I  am,  Herr  Rathsherr,'  he 
would  say,  'money  is  devilish  scarce  just  now.'  — 
'Nothing  else?'  I  say.  'That's  a  mere  trifle.  Only 
give  me  full  power  to  do  what  I  like'  —  licentia 
poetica  that  is  called  in  Latin,  Miller  Voss,  —  'and 


168  IN  THE  YEx^R  '13. 

a  regiment  of  Grrenadier  Guards.'  —  ^You  shall  have 
them,  my  dear  Rathsherr,'  says  the  King;  and  I 
have  all  the  Jews  from  the  whole  of  Prussia  as- 
sembled in  the  palace-yard  at  Berlin.  I  surround  the 
palace  with  my  grenadiers,  place  myself  at  the  head 
of  a  company  and  march  with  them  into  the  palace- 
yard.  jAre  you  all  there?'  I  ask  the  Jews.  'Yes,'  say 
they.  'Now,  are  you  willing,'  I  say  to  them,  'to 
sacrifice  the  half  of  your  possessions  on  the  altar  of 
the  Fatherland?'  —  'We  can't  do  that,'  says  one, 
'for  we  should  be  ruined.'  —  'Will  you,  or  will  you 
not?'  I  ask.  I  give  the  word  of  command  'Atten- 
tion.' —  'Herr  Rathsherr,'  says  another,  'take  a 
quarter.'  —  'Not  a  groschen  less  than  half,'  say  I; 
'Make  ready!'  —  'We  will!'  scream  the  Jews  — 
'Good,'  say  I,  'then  let  each  one  go  singly  up  to 
the  Presence  Chamber  where  his  Majesty  is  sitting 
on  the  Throne,  and  let  each  one  lay  his  money  on 
the  steps  at  his  feet.'  When  they  have  all  been 
up,  I  go.  'Well,'  I  say,  'how  is  it  now  your 
Majesty.'  —  'Capital,  my  dear  Herr  Rathsherr,' 
says  he,  'would  that  the  other  business  were  going 
as  well.'  —  'We'll  soon  manage  it,'  say  I*,  'only 
give  me  twenty  regiments  or  so  of  infantry,  ten  of 
cavalry  and  as  much  artillery  as  you  have  by  you.' 
—  'You  shall  have  them,'  says  the  King.  —  'Good,' 
say  I,  and  march  off  with  my  soldiers  away  through 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  169 

field  and  flood,  my  flanks  always  covered.  I  throw 
myself  npon  Hamburg,  and  surprise  the  Prince  of 
Eckmiihl;  he  is  brought  before  me.  *  Build  a  good 
high  gallows,'  say  I.  —  'Mercy,'  says  he.  —  'No 
mercy,'  say  I;  'this  is  for  trying  to  become  Duke  of 
Mecklenburg.' " 

"In  Heaven's  name,  Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  Miller 
Voss,  "don't  talk  like  that;  just  think  if  those  fel- 
lows were  to  understand  you." 

"That  would  be  the  very  Devil!"  said  my  uncle 
Herse,  and  he  looked  at  the  Frenchmen  one  after 
another,  but,  when  he  saw  that  they  were  paying  no 
heed  to  him,  he  said,  "You're  an  old  coward.  Miller 
Voss,   the   fellows  cannot  understand  Platt-Deutsch; 

—  Well,  so  I  have  him  hanged,  and  march,  to  the 
left,  into  Hanover,  and  fall  on  the  rear  of  the  Cor- 
sican  —  you  know  whom  I  mean.  —  You  must  al- 
ways fall  upon  the  enemy's  rear,  that  is  the  chief 
thing,  everything  else  is  rubbish.  A  tremendous 
battle!  Fifteen  thousand  prisoners!  He  sends  me  a 
trumpeter:  'A  truce.'  —  'No  good,'  say  I,  'we  have 
not  come  here  to  play.'  —  'Peace,'  he  sends  me 
word. —  'Good,'  say  I-,  'Rheinland  and  Westphalia, 
the  whole  of  Alsatia  and  three-fourths  of  Lothringen;' 

—  'I  can't,'  says  he,  'my  brother  must  live.'  For- 
ward then  again!  I  march  to  the  right  and  quiet 
Belgium   and  Holland;    all   at  once  I  wheel  to  the 


170  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

left.  —  'Tlie  Devil  take  it!'  says  he.  'Here's  that 
confounded  Eathsherr  again  in  my  rear.'  —  'First 
regiment  of  Grenadiers,  charge!'  I  command*,  the 
battery  is  taken.  'Second  regiment  of  Hussars  to 
the  front!'  —  He  ventures  too  far  forward  with  his 
staff.  Swoop,  the  Hussars  come  down  upon  him.  — 
'Here  is  my  sword,'  says  he.  —  'Good,'  say  I,  'now 
come  along  with  me.  And  you,  my  boys,  can  now 
go  home  again,  the  war  is  at  an  end.'  I  now  lead 
him  in  chains  to  the  foot  of  the  Throne.  —  'Your 
Majesty  of  Prussia,  here  he  is.'  —  'Herr  Rathsherr,' 
says  the  King,  'ask  some  favour.'  —  'Your Majesty,' 
say  I,  'I  have  no  children,  but,  if  you  wish  to  do 
something  for  me,  give  my  wife  a  little  pension 
when  I  leave  this  life.  Otherwise,  I  wish  for  nothing 
but  to  retire  to  my  former  position  of  Stemhagen 
Rathsherr.'  —  'As  you  like,'  says  the  King;  'but 
remember  that  whenever  you  may  happen  to  come 
to  Berlin,  a  place  will  be  kept  for  you  at  my  table.' 
—  I  make  my  bow,  say  'Good  day,'  and  go  back 
again  to  Stemhagen." 

"That's  fine  of  you,"  said  baker  Witte.  "But 
what  is  the  good  to  us  of  all  this  grand  military  art? 
This  time  the  thing  has  begun  at  the  wrong  end; 
you  haven't  got  him,  he  has  got  you  —  and  us 
into  the  bargain;  and,  if  anyone  is  to  be  brought 
bound   to   the   foot   of  the  throne,    it    will    be    us. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  171 

After  all,  the  Burmeister  was  the  cleverest  of  us, 
for  he's  now  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill ,  and  sitting 
in  a  dry  place,  and  our  teeth  are  chattering  with 
cold  like  nuts  in  a  bag." 

"Pooh,  pooh!"  said  my  uncle  Herse,  "what  art 
is  there  in  running  away  before  everyone's  eyes? 
No,  my  advice  is  that  we  should  do  it  more  deli- 
cately with  a  stratagem  of  war.  Let  us  each  think 
of  one,  and  then  we  can  choose  the  best." 

The  Miller  had  not  spoken  a  word  all  this  time. 
He  was  looking,  as  well  as  the  rain  would  let  him, 
down  the  hill-side  to  the  road.  "Good  God!"  he 
said  at  last.  "Why  it's  sheer  impossible;  why 
it's  my  Fieka  and  Joe  Voss's  Heinrich,  who  are 
coming  along  in  that  waggon!" 

And  so  it  was. 


172  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

How  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  stood  beside  my  Mother  with  an  empty 
bowl  in  his  hand ;  what  Fieka  and  Heinrich  had  come  for ;  and  how 
Fritz  Sahlmann  lost  his  chance  of  glory. 

This  was  the  saddest  day  that  I  can  remember 
in  all  my  childhood.  What  a  scene  it  was  in  my 
mother's  room! 

My  mother  had,  for  some  time  past,  seen  clearly 
that  things  were  going  on  which  should  not  be; 
but,  though  she  had  a  very  excitable  mind  and  a 
lively  imagination,  which  brought  everything  in  a 
strong  light  before  her  eyes,  pain  and  illness  had 
accustomed  her  to  restrain  her  feelings  and  to  bear 
with  resignation  whatever  might  come.  But  un- 
certainty at  a  time  like  that  was  hard  to  bear,  and 
what  made  it  still  harder  was ,  that  it  was  impossible 
to  procure  certainty.  When  she  heard  my  father's 
raised  voice  in  the  hall,  and  the  violent  tone  of  the 
adjutant,  and  the  colonel's  short,  sharp  commands, 
she  guessed  what  was  happening  without  being  able 
to  understand  what  was  said.  She  became  alarmed*, 
and  not  a  soul  was  near  her,  not  a  soul  attended 
to  her  bell.     Her  helpless  state,  and  the  bitter  sense 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  173 

that  she  could  be  of  no  use,  that  she  did  not  stand 
there  where  she  ought  to  stand,  —  at  my  father's 
side,  —  overcame  her;  and  when  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann  came  back  into  her  room  she  had  fainted, 
and  was  lying  as  if  dead  in  her  armchair. 

He  had  entered  with  the  most  consoling  passage 
he  could  think  of  from  Marcus  Aurelius  on  his  lips*, 
but,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  state  my  mother  was  in, 
he  forgot  everything  he  had  meant  to  say,  and  began 
to  cry  out  — "Why,  what  is  the  matter,  my  friend? 
What  is  the  matter?     What  say  you,  eh?" 

The  old  man,  who  did  not  usually  lose  his  pre- 
sence of  mind,  was  altogether  confused  and  be- 
wildered, and  had  retained  only  an  indistinct  feeling 
that  something  must  be  done;  and  when  I  rushed 
in,  with  the  tears  streaming  down  my  cheeks,  he 
was  standing  before  my  mother  with  a  bowl  in  his 
hand  with  no  water  in  it,  and  saying  —  "This  is  a 
very  strange  thing!" 

At  last  my  screams  brought  the  Frau  Amtshaupt- 
mann  and  Mamsell  Westphalen  to  the  rescue.  I 
had  thrown  myself  on  my  mother's  neck,  and  cried 
over  and  over  again,  "Mother,  dearest  mother,  he 
will  come  back-,  he  told  me  to  tell  you  he  should 
soon  be  back  again."  At  last,  at  last  her  conscious- 
ness returned;  and,  if  we  had  been  anxious  before, 
we  were  miserable  now. 


174  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

To  console  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  for  those 
who  are  satisfied  with  offering  the  stereotyped  phrases 
of  politeness  to  one  in  sorrow;  but  for  anyone  whose 
heart  is  overflowing  with  love ,  which  he  longs  to  pour 
into  another's  sorrowing  heart,  and  who  at  the  same 
time  feels  that  all  the  love  he  can  give  is  insuffi- 
cient to  awaken  fresh  hopes  in  this  poor  heart,  it  is 
most  difficult,  and  becomes  indeed  impossible  if  he 
does  not  believe  in  the  words  of  comfort  which  he 
utters.  Heaven  be  praised!  This  was  not  the  case 
here.  The  most  faithful  of  friends  stood  by  us,  and 
the  old  Herr  and  his  wife  by  degrees  succeeded  in 
quieting  my  mother's  grief;  and  when  she  was  re- 
covered enough  to  understand  his  reasons,  there 
was  no  lack  of  them,  for  if  there  was  anyone  in 
the  world  who  had  reasons  to  give  for  everything, 
it  was  the  Amtshauptmann ,  and  he  did  not  spare 
them  to-day. 

Reasons  were  of  little  use  to  me;  but,  all  the 
same,  I  was  comforted  before  my  mother  was. 
Mamsell  Westphalen  had  taken  me  on  her  lap,  and, 
while  the  tears  were  rolling  down  my  face,  she 
gave  me  delightful  descriptions  of  the  apples  I 
should  have,  and  this  did  its  work.  A  child's 
heart  is  soon  consoled;  the  tree  requires  heavy  rain, 
but  a  drop  of  dew  refreshes  the  blade  of  grass. 

The   first  burst   of  grief  was  over,  when  Luth, 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  175 

the  town-messenger,  oame  in,  and  told  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann  that  Miller  Voss's  Fieka  was  out- 
side, and  wished  to  speak  a  few  words  to  him. 

"My  friend,"  said  the  old  Herr,  "she  is  a  good 
girl,  I  know  it  for  certain;  and  she  is  no  doubt 
anxious  about  her  father.  We  may  as  well  have 
her  here,  I  think,  and  see  what  she  wants.  What 
says  Horace?  ''Est  solamen  miseris  socios  habuisse 
malorum.''  I  will  translate  that  to  you  by-and-bye. 
Luth,  go  and  fetch  the  girl." 

Fieka  came  in.  She  was  a  slender  little  damsel, 
but  her  fresh  round  cheeks  were  health  itself,  and 
though  just  now  her  eyes  looked  sad ,  joi  you  could 
see  that  they  would  be  able  to  laugh  merrily  enough 
at  other  times.  Her  whole  appearance  showed  that 
she  was  a  resolute  girl,  who  would  not  be  easily 
turned  aside  from  her  purpose;  and  her  true  simple 
face  plainly  told  that  she  would  engage  in  no  un- 
dertaking which  she  did  not  feel  to  be  right.  She 
had  tied  a  coloured  handkerchief  over  her  cap  to 
keep  it  safe  from  the  rain,  and  looked  so  neat  in 
her  red  and  green  striped  woollen  petticoat  as  she 
stood  there  before  the  old  Herr,  that  he  could  not 
help  turning  to  his  wife  and  saying  half  aloud, 
"Eh,  Neiting,  what  say  you?" 

When  Fieka  had  made  her  curtsey  to  the  Amts- 
hauptmann ,  she  went  round  towards  the  Frau  Amts- 


176  ,  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

liauptmann  and  my  mother  and  Mamsell  Westphalen, 
and  made  a  curtsey  to  each  of  them,  and  shook 
hands  with  them,  according  to  the  fashion  of  those 
good  old  times. 

"Herr  Amtshauptmann,"  said  Fieka,  "my  father 
and  the  neighbours  have  told  me  so  much  good  of 
you  that  I  have  made  bold  to  come  to  you  in  my 
trouble." 

"What  have  you  got  on  your  mind,  then,  my 
daughter?"  asked  the  old  Herr  kindly,  and  he  laid 
his  hand  on  her  head.       "What  say  you,  eh?" 

"My  father  is  innocent,"  she  replied,  looking 
up  in  his  face  with  perfect  trust. 

"That  he  is  innocent  I  know,  my  child,"  said 
he,  and  he  nodded  his  head. 

"And  so  I've  no  fear  but  he'll  be  set  free  soon," 
continued  Fieka. 

"Hm?  Yes.  That's  to  say  it  would  be  no 
more  than  right.  But,  in  these  days,  might  counts 
as  right*,  and  if  it's  difficult,  in  quiet  times  and  with 
the  best  intentions,  to  pick  out  the  innocent  from 
the  guilty,  it  is  harder  still  in  war-time,  especially 
if  the  good  intentions  are  lacking." 

"I  am  not  at  all  afraid,"  said  Fieka  quickly; 
"he  must  be  set  free,  and  that  soon.  But  my  father 
is  an  old  man,  something  might  happen  to  him,  and 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  177 

there  would  be  nobody  about  him  then;  so  I  want 
to  go  and  be  near  him." 

"My  daughter,"  said  the  old  Herr,  shaking  his 
head,  "you  are  young,  and  soldiers  are  rough  hosts. 
It  would  be  no  comfort  to  your  father  to  know  you 
were  in  their  company." 

"I  am  not  going  alone,  Herr;  my  cousin  Hein- 
ricli,  Joe  Voss's  son,  is  going  with  me;  and  we 
thought  if  you  would  give  us  some  writing,  as  a 
sort  of  pass,  nothing  would  happen  to  us." 

"A  pass?"  said  the  Amtshauptmann ,  shaking 
his  head  still  more  seriously.  "Much  those  fellows 
will  heed  a  pass  from  a  Stemhagen  Amtshauptmann ! 
And  yet,  my  friend,"  he  added,  turning  to  my 
mother,  "if  I  were  to  give  her  a  letter  to  Colonel 
von  Toll  —  what  say  you,  eh?  He  could  not  be 
the  son  of  Renatus  von  Toll  if  he  were  to  leave  thi^ 
girl  without  protection.  And  you  say,"  he  added, 
turning  to  Fieka,  "that  your  cousin  Heinrich  is 
going  with  you?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann;  he  is  waiting  in 
the  hall  outside." 

"Call  him  in  to  me." 

Heinrich  came  in.  He  was  a  fine  fellow, 
broad  in  the  shoulders  and  narrow  across  the  hips, 
with  blue  eyes  and  light  hair;  one  of  those  men 
whom  you   may   see   any   day  in  harvest   from  six 

In  the  Year  '13,  12 


178  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 

o'clock  in  the  morning  till  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening 
handling  the  scythe  as  lightly  as  if  it  were  a  feather. 


*'I  hear,  my  son,"  said  the  old  Herr,  "that  you 
wish  to  go  with  Fieka?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann." 

"And  you  will  protect  her,  and  will  not  leave 
her?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann ;  and  I  have  got  my 
horse  and  waggon  here,  and  I  thought  if  the 
French  had  nothing  against  it,  the  prisoners  might 
drive  along  with  Fieka,  and  I  could  walk  by  the 
side." 

"Herr  Amtshauptmann ! "  cried  my  mother. 
"Help  him  to  do  what  he  proposes*,  perhaps  it  will 
be  the  only  opportunity  I  shall  have  of  sending 
anything  to  my  husband.  He  was  carried  off  just 
as  he  was  —  and  in  this  weather  too!" 

"True,  true,  my  friend.  Yes,  Fieka,  I  will 
give  you  a  letter.  And,  Neiting,  the  old  Miller 
was  also  carried  off  unprovided  for*,  get  some- 
thing for  him.  My  cloak,  Mamsell  Westphalen, 
and  a  nightcap,  for  I  know  he  wears  one.  And, 
my  friend,"  and  here  he  turned  once  more  to  my 
mother,  "anyone  who  is  used  to  wearing  a  nightcap 
would  very  much  miss  it  if  he  hadn't  one." 


IN   THE   YEAR  '13.  179 

"Fritz,"  said  the  Frau  Amtshauptmann  to  me, 
"run  over  to  Baker  Witte's  and  see  if  his  daughter 
would  not  like  to  send  something  to  him." 

Now  began  the  packing.  In  a  few  minutes  it 
was  done;  and,  just  as  everything  was  in  the  cart, 
Struwingken  appeared,  carrying  an  immense  basket 
of  milk-rolls  and  sausages.  Fieka  had  now  taken 
her  seat  in  the  waggon,  and  the  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann had  finished  his  letter;  as  he  gave  it  to  Fieka 
he  called  Heinrich  aside,  and  said  to  him  — 

"So  you  are  Joe  Voss's  son,  who  has  been  so 
long  at  law  with  the  Miller?" 

"Yes,  Herr,  but  do  not  take  it  ill.  My  father 
was  somewhat  obstinate  and  had  set  his  heart  upon 
it;  but  it's  about  that  I  came  over  here.  I  have 
abeady  spoken  of  it  to  the  Miller  and  to  Fieka, 
and  if  I  have  my  way  it  will  all  be  settled  soon." 

"My  son,"  said  the  Amtshauptmann,  and  shook 
him  by  the  hand,  "I  will  tell  you  something;  — 
you  please  me.  But  I  will  tell  you  something 
else;  —  you  have  taken  upon  yourself  to  protect 
the  Miller's  Fieka.  If  you  let  a  hair  of  her  head  be 
touched,  never  dare  to  appear  before  my  eyes  again." 
So  saying  he  turned  round,  and  went  into  my  mother's 
room  again,  and  said  to  her  —  "A  splendid  girl  that, 
my  friend!" 

"What  did  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  say  to  you?" 

12* 


180  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

asked  Fieka  after  Heinricli  had  seated  himself,   and 
they  had  set  off. 

"Oh,  nothing  particular,"  said  Heinrich.  "But 
you  will  catch  cold,"  he  added  wrapping  her  up  in 
the  old  Herr's  cloak,  and  then  driving  rapidly  down 
the  street. 

They  had  not  gone  far,  when  they  were  met  by 
the  Stemhagen  folks  who  had  been  following  the 
French  and  the  prisoners.  Fritz  Sahlmann,  of  course, 
was  foremost  of  all.  What  ?i  picture  he  looked!  Just 
as  if  he  had  been  working  all  day  long  in  brick- 
maker's  clay. 

"The  Burmeister  has  escaped,"  he  shouted  out  to 
them  down  the  street.  "The  Burmeister  has  made 
off  across  the  country  on  old  Brasig's  brown  mare. 
/  gave  him  the  signal  and  off  he  went." 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  boy?"  said  the 
shoemaker's  wife,  who  was  looking  out  over  her 
half  door  watching  for  her  husband. 

"Yes,  neighbour,"  said  Tropner  the  captain  of 
the  fire-brigade  who  now  approached*,  "the  Bur- 
meister's  off,  but  they  have  given  your  husband 
something  to  remember.  You  had  better  make  him 
a  poultice  of  saffron  and  rye-flour,  and  lay  it  be- 
tween his  shoulders  where  the  Frenchman  tickled 
him  with  the  butt  of  his  musket." 
^      The  news   ran  through   the  town  like   wildfire: 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  181 

"The  Burmeister  has  got  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
French  on  Brasig's  brown  mare;"  and  Luth  burst 
into  my  mother's  room  looking  as  if  Easter  and 
Whitsuntide  had  fallen  on  the  same  day,  and  he  had 
been  ordered  to  have  the  pleasure  that  the  Stem- 
hagen  folk  allowed  themselves  at  these  seasons  all 
at  once. 

"Frau  Burmeister,"  he  cried,  "don't  be  alarmed 
—  Good  news,  Herr  Amtshauptmann ;  —  good  news 
Frau  Amtshauptmann!  Our  Herr  Burmeister  has 
escaped  from  the  French  — " 

Heavens !  what  an  uproar  followed.  My  mother 
trembled  from  head  to  foot,  the  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann forgot  his  age  and  position,  and  seized  Luth 
by  the  collar  and  shook  him  with  all  his  might. 
"Luth,  man,  recollect  yourself!  We  are  not  in  a 
mood  for  jesting  here." 

The  Frau  Amtshauptmann  went  up  anxiously  to 
my  mother.  Mamsell  Westphalen  sat  upright  and 
stiffly  in  her  chair  and  said  —  "If  you  will  let  me 
say  so,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  he  is  a  clown." 

"Herr  Amtshauptmann,  Herr  Amtshauptmann," 
said  Luth  letting  himself  be  shaken;  "you  may  be- 
lieve me;  Fritz  Sahlmann  saw  it  all  and  told  me 
about  it." 

"Fritz  Sahlmann?  My  Fritz  Sahlmann?"  asked 
the  old  Herr,  and  let  Luth  go. 


182  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

"It  looks  like  our  Fritz  Sahlmann,  Herr  Anits- 
hauptmann ,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen,  quietly; 
*' Fritz  Sahlmann  and  truth  are  as  far  asunder  as  the 
cuckoo  and  the  Seven  Stars." 

"Wliere  is  the  boy?"  asked  the  Amtshauptmann. 
,     "He  is  standing  outside  in  the  Hall,"  said  Luth. 

The  old  Herr  strode  with  long  steps  to  the  door 
and  called  out,  —  "Fritz,  Fritz  Sahlmann,  come  in 
here."  ^ 

Fritz  Sahlmann  came.  Two  forces  were  struggling 
in  his  breast,  the  desire  to  recount  his  valorous  deeds 
and  the  fear  of  a  sound  rating  on  account  of  his 
appearance*,  the  one  drew  him  forward  and  the  other 
held  him  back;  and,  at  the  same  time  perhaps,  one 
pulled  him  to  the  left,  and  the  other  to  the  right, 
for  he  came  in  at  the  door  askew,  with  his  good 
side  first.  But  he  had  reckoned  without  his  host, 
for  he  had  not  taken  into  account  that  coming  in,  in 
this  way,  his  natural  centre  of  gravity,  on  which  he 
had  sat  down  in  the  mud,  would  at  once  catch  the 
eyes  of  the  Frau  Amtshauptmann  and  Mamsell 
Westphalen. 

"Fritz  Sahlmann,"  asked  the  old  Herr,  "what  is 
the  meaning  of  all  this?" 

Fritz  Sahlmann  who  had  marched  in  with  a  sort 
of  pride,  now  let  his  head  drop  and  looked  down  at 
his  clothes: 


IN  THE   YEAR  '13.  183 

"Oh,  nothing,  Herr  Amtshauptmann.  It's  only 
a  little  mud." 

"Heaven  preserve  us,"  cried  the  Frau  Amts- 
hauptmann-, "what  does  the  boy  look  like?  Who  is 
ever  to  get  him  clean  again?" 

"Hanchen  and  Corlin  must  go  all  over  him  with 
the  kitchen  brooms,"  said  Mamsell  Westphalen. 

"Boy!"  cried  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann-,  "now 
tell  me  at  once  the  pure  truth.  Has  the  Burmeister 
escaped  or  not?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,"  said  Fritz,  and 
looked  up  again;  "he's  scuttled." 

"That's  a  lie,"  burst  out  Mamsell  Westphalen*, 
"how  can  pure  truth  come  from  an  unclean  vessel?" 

"Proceed,  Fritz,"  said  the  old  Herr.  And  Fritz 
proceeded. 

It  often  happens  in  this  world  that  in  seeking 
to  carry  off  an  undue  share  of  honour,  people  lose 
even  that  amount  which  they  really  deserve.  This 
happened  to  Fritz.  When  he  came  to  his  own  share 
in  the  story  he  made  it  so  full  of  details,  described 
the  naturalness  of  his  fall  so  minutely,  and  made  so 
much  of  everything,  in  order  to  place  his  deeds  in 
a  conspicuous  light,  that  he  was  still  a  long  way 
'from  the  end,  when  Luth  came  in  with  the  Captain 
of  the  Fire-Brigade;  and  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann 
turned  to  the  latter,   and  said  in  High  German  — 


184  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 

"Tropner,  my  man,  what  do  you  know  of  the 
matter."  Tropner  felt,  from  this  question  being  put 
in  High  German,  that  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann 
looked  upon  him  as  an  educated  man,  and  so  he 
determined  to  behave  like  one,  and  replied  in  as 
good  High  German  as  he  could  muster,  "I  saw  it 
from  beginning  to  end."  He  now  began  the  whole 
story  over  again,  entirely  left  out  Fritz  Sahlmann's 
part  and  concluded  with  these  words:  "And  there- 
upon the  Herr  Burmeister  sprang  from  behind  the 
Herr  Rathsherr's  cloak,  dashed  right  round  the 
eclipage,  scrambled  on  all  fours  up  the  bank  to  the 
hollow  willow-tree,  snatched  the  bridle  out  of  Fritz's 
hands  by  main  force,  swung  himself  into  the  saddle, 
and  no  sooner  did  he  feel  the  brown  mare  under 
him,  than  off  he  went  like  a  bolt  straight  towards 
the  Pribbenow  fir-wood." 

"And  the  French?"  asked  the  Amtshauptmann. 

"  Oh,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  they  were  half-frozen 
and,  when  they  wanted  to  fire,  their  guns  would  not 
go  off  because  of  the  wet,  and  so  they  threw  them- 
selves in  their  rage  upon  us,  who  were  innocently 
looking  on;  and  gave  Bank  the  shoemaker  who  lives 
in  the  Brandenburg  road,  a  touch  of  the  butt-end  of 
a  musket  between  the  shoulders,  and  then  all  of  us 
made  off  and  ran  down  the  hill." 

"My   friend,"   cried  the  Amtshauptmann,   "this 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  185 

Burmeister  of  ours  is  a  fellow;  lie  is  as  quick  as  a 
gun." 

But  she  for  whom  this  speech  was  meant  could 
not  hear  it.  My  mother  lay  back  in  her  chair, 
crying  bitterly.  At  the  talk  of  shooting  she  had 
pressed  the  arm  of  the  good  Frau  Amtshauptmann 
tightly,  as  if  she  were  holding  to  it  as  a  safeguard 
against  the  giddiness  that  came  over  her;  but  when 
at  last  it  was  certain  that  my  father  had  got  off  safe 
and  sound,  the  tears  started  from  her  eyes,  she 
covered  her  face,  and  gave  way  to  silent  tears. 

Were  they  tears  of  joy  ?  —  Who  can  tell?  —  Who 
can  say  where  joy  begins  and  sorrow  ends?  They 
are  so  wonderfully  interwoven  in  the  human  heart; 
they  are  the  warp  and  the  woof,  and  happy  is  he 
who  weaves  them  into  a  firm  web.  The  tear  which 
is  born  of  sorrow  has  as  much  its  woof  of  hope  as 
the  tear  of  joy  its  woof  of  fear.  The  past  anguish 
about  my  father  and  the  fear  as  to  his  future  wove 
themselves  into  my  mother's  joyful  feeling  of  thank- 
fulness, and  the  tears  which  fell  were  not  tears  of 
pure  joy.  Does  any  tear  of  pure  joy  ever  fall  on 
this  earth? 

It  had  become  quite  quiet;  an  angel  flew  through 
the  room  — ,  for  a  short  time  only:  angels  do  not 
stay  long  here  below;  I  know  it  for  I  stood  with 
my  head  against  our  tall  brown  clock  and  cried  and 


186  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

listened  to  the  ticking  of  the  pendulum  —  a  short 
time!  I  looked  up:  the  old  Amtshauptmann  was 
looking  out  of  the  uppermost  window  at  the  grey 
heavens,  my  mother  and  the  Frau  Amtshauptmann 
were  crying,  Mamsell  Westphalen  too  *,  she  had  taken 
Fritz  Sahlmann  by  the  hand,  and  at  the  last  stroke 
of  the  angel's  wing  she  said;  — 

"Go  up  to  the  Schloss,  Fritz,  and  put  on  dry 
clothes;  Hanchen  can  give  you  your  Sunday  suit.'- 

"I  will  be  off  to  Giilzow,  Herr  Amtshauptmann," 
said  Luth,  "and  Tropner  can  go  round  to  Pribbe- 
now,  and  then  we  can't  both  miss  the  Herr  Bur- 
meister." 

The  Amtshauptmann  nodded  his  head,  walked 
up  to  my  mother,  against  whose  knees  I  had  laid 
myself,  and  said,  —  "You  and  the  boy,  here,  have 
good  cause  to  thank  God  to-day,  my  friend." 


IN  THE   YEAR   '13.  187 


CHAPTER  XV. 

How  the  Colonel  was  obliged  to  turn  away  at  Fieka's  words ,  and  Fieka 
at  Heinrich's.  Why  the  Herr  Rathsherr  cursed  all  thin  people; 
and  the  Miller  wished  he  were  a  crow. 

When  Fieka  and  Heinrich  arrived  at  the  Wind- 
mill-hill, she  looked  round  on  all  sides,  and,  in  a 
few  moments ,  caught  sight  of  her  father  as  he  sat 
with  his  companions  under  the  mill-shed. 

"There's  my  father,"  said  she  to  Heinrich. 

''Well,  then,"  he  replied,  "we'll  turn  up  here  to 
the  right  of  the  pass,  towards  the  ploughed  field. 
It  will  be  hard  work*,  but  there's  no  getting  through 
'Breakneck.'  We  shall  get  to  the  mill  this  way, 
and  you  can  speak  to  your  father  then." 

"Stop,"  cried  Fieka,  "don't  turn  up  to  the  right 
towards  the  mill;  turn  down  to  the  left,  away  from 
it;  I  don't  want  to  speak  to  him.  —  Look  there 
now!     He  has  seen  us;  he's  making  signs  to  us!" 

"Fieka,"  said  Heinrich,  doing  as  she  told  him, 
"what  are  you  doing  this  for?  Why  do  you  want 
to  get  out  of  your  father's  way?" 

"Because  I  can't  help  him  till  I  have  given  the 
Colonel  the  letter.     Who  knows,   how  the  French 


188  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 

might  take  it,  if  I  spoke  to  him?  There  might  be 
some  dispute,  and  if  we  were  taken  before  the 
Colonel  so,  it's  not  likely  he  would  look  on  us  with 
much  favour.  And  then  too,  why  should  I  be  hold- 
ing out  hopes  to  my  old  father,  when  they  are  so 
far  off?  It's  enough  for  the  moment  that  he  knows 
we  are  near  him." 

The  cannon  were  now  gradually  got  out  of  their 
bed  of  mud,  and  the  procession  began  to  move  on 
once  more.  The  prisoners  were  led  along  one  side 
of  the  pass;  and  Heinrich  drove  along  the  other  — 
as  well  as  he  could  over  old  Nahmaker's  ploughed 
field.     Fieka  looked  out  for  the  Colonel. 

"I  shall  know  him  again  when  I  see  him,"  she 
said  to  Heinrich.  *'He  has  a  kind  face  for  all  that 
it  looked  hard  when  he  commanded  them  to  take 
the  Burmeister." 

Thus  talking,  they  passed  by  the  cannon  and 
many  a  knot  of  French  plodding  heavily  through 
the  deep  mud.  At  last,  close  to  the  sign  of  the 
"Bremsenkranz"  they  saw  the  Colonel  on  horseback 
slowly  making  his  way  onwards,  side  by  side  with 
some  of  his  officers.  — 

"Drive  on  a  little  way  past  them,  Heinrich," 
said  Fieka,  "and  stop  at  the  edge  of  the  bank,  and 
I  will  get  down." 

This    was    done.      As   the   Colonel    approached, 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  189 

Fieka  stood  in  the  foot-path,  in  his  way,  advanced  a 
couple  of  steps  towards  him  and  said  —  "Herr,  I 
have  a  letter  for  you." 

The  Colonel  stopped,  took  the  letter,  and  looked 
at  Fieka,  rather  astonished:  "From  whom  is  it,  my 
child?" 

"From  our  Herr  Amtshauptmann  Weber." 

The  Colonel  broke  the  seal  and  read;  his  face 
gradually  softened  with  pity;  but  when  he  had 
finished  reading,  he  silently  shook  his  head.  Fieka 
had  watched  him  with  the  greatest  anxiety;  she  read 
the  answer  to  the  letter  in  his  face;  and  when  he  so 
sorrowfully  shook  his  head,  the  tears  started  to  her 
eyes:  "Sir,  it  is  my  old  father,  and  I  am  his  only 
child,"  she  cried. 

She  might  have  said  anything  in  the  world,  — 
the  finest  speech  or  the  most  beautiful  text  from  the 
Bible,  —  nothing  would  have  made  so  deep  an  im- 
pression upon  the  strong  man  as  these  few  words  in 
the  Platt-Deutsch  tongue.  He  too  had  an  old  father 
and  was  his  only  child.  His  father  lived  in  a  high 
castle  in  Westphalia;  but  in  loneliness,  —  discon- 
tented with  his  countrymen  and  his  country.  Time 
and  the  world  had  rolled  many  a  stone  between  father 
and  son,  until  a  broad  wall  had  grown  up  between 
them,  above  which  it  was  only  with  difficulty  that  they 
could  understand  one  another.  Discord  and  dissension 


190  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

had  arisen,  and  where  they  are,  conscience  makes 
its  voice  heard  in  quiet  hours.  How  often  had  this 
inner  voice  said  to  him:  "It  is  your  old  father,  and 
you  are  his  only  child!"  Happiness  and  misery, 
the  thunder  of  the  cannon  and  the  roar  of  battle 
had,  indeed,  at  times  been  able  to  overpower  it;  but 
the  wound  in  his  heart  always  opened  afresh  like 
the  indelible  blood-stain  reappearing  on  a  room- 
floor.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  did  he  hear  these 
words  uttered  by  stranger  lips,  —  for  the  first  time 
in  the  language  of  his  childhood.  It  seemed  to 
him  as  if  there  were  no  longer  any  reproach  con- 
tained in  them-,  they  were  spoken  so  gently,  they 
sounded  as  softly  in  his  ears  as  if  they  were  words 
of  forgiveness ;  and,  when  he  saw  the  poor  girl  stand- 
ing there  before  him  with  her  pale,  anxious  face,  it 
was  too  much  for  him,  —  he  was  obliged  to  turn 
away,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  speak 
to  her  again.  At  last  he  recovered  himself,  and 
said  to  her  with  all  the  warmth  of  manner  which 
such  a  moment  calls  forth:  "My  dear  child,  it  is  not 
in  my  power  to  set  your  father  free;  but  he  will  be 
soon.  You  and  your  love  to  him  shall  not,  how- 
ever, have  appealed  to  me  in  vain;  you  shall  stay 
near  him,  and  he  can  go  in  the  waggon  with  you. 
And  when  we  get  to  Brandenburg,  come  and  speak 
to  me  again." 


IN  THE  YEAR  *13.  191 

Thereupon  lie  gave  the  necessary  orders,  and 
rode  on  with  the  other  officers. 

Heinrich  now  approached  a  little  nearer  with  his 
waggon,  jumped  down,  and  asked:  "How  has  it 
gone,  Fieka?  —  But  I  need  not  ask  you  that.  You 
look  as  if  your  heart  were  on  your  tongue;  he  has 
set  your  father  free,  has  he  not?"  And  he  put  his 
arm  round  her:  *'Come,  Fieka,  get  up  into  the 
waggon,  here's  a  lot  of  Frenchmen  coming,  —  we 
must  get  out  of  their  way." 

"They  won't  hurt  us,"  said  Fieka,  mounting 
higher  up  the  bank  and  looking  along  the  road. 
"He  hasn't  set  him  free,  but  he's  promised  that  he 
will.  I  am  to  stay  near  father,  and  all  the  prisoners 
are  to  come  in  our  waggon-,  and,  Heinrich;  you  can 
go  home  now  to  the  mill  and  help  mother." 

Heinrich  made  the  reins  fast  to  a  willow-tree, 
and  bent  down  to  buckle  some  strap  in  the  harness, 
and  then  patted  and  stroked  the  smooth  glossy  neck 
of  the  near  side-horse.  — 

"You  are  right,  Heinrich,"  said  Fieka,  "you  do 
not  like  to  leave  your  horses  and  waggon  behind  you ; 
but  old  Inspector  Brasig  will  take  them  back  for  you, 
—  he  will  willingly  do  us  that  favour." 

"Fieka,  I  was  not  thinking  about  the  horses  and 
waggon,"  said  Heinrich,  "I  was  thinking  about  you 


192  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

and  what  the  old  Herr  Amtshauptmann  said  to 
me. " 

"What  was  that?''  she  asked. 

"If  I  let  a  hair  of  your  head  be  touched,  I  was 
never  to  dare  appear  before  his  eyes  again.  And, 
Fieka,  I  promised  him  I  would  stay  by  you  at  all 
times,  and  when  I  made  him  that  promise,"  and  he 
went  up  to  her  and  took  her  hand  in  his,  and 
looked  earnestly  into  her  eyes  —  "there  were  two 
present  listening,  though  no  one  knew  it,  but  I 
alone;  Fieka,  they  were  —  God,  and  my  own 
heart." 

Fieka  blushed  red  as  a  rose,  but  when  he  put 
his  arm  round  her,  she  gently  freed  herself  from  his 
embrace  and  said  — 

"Not  here,  Heinrich!  —  Not  to-day,  Heinrich! 
—  Good  heavens,  why  there  is  my  old  father!" 

So  saying,  she  left  him,  and  went  to  meet  her 
father-,  and  Heinrich  stood  there  like  a  tree  in  the 
winter-time  when  the  green  leaves  have  all  fallen  off, 
and  the  birds  no  longer  sing  of  love  and  joy  in  its 
branches.  But  when  she  turned  round;  came  back 
to  him  again,  cried:  "Heinrich,  Heinrich,"  and  the 
tears  welled  up  into  her  eyes;  and  then  hastily  set 
off  again  towards  her  father,  leaf  after  leaf  burst 
forth,  and  songs  of  joy  and  love  sounded  in  the  air, 
and  spring  arose  in  his  heart,  the  Spring  of  Love,  — 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  193 

the  only  Spring  whicli  can,  through  a  whole  life- 
time, survive  summer's  heat,  and  autumn's  storms 
and  winter's  cold  •,  —  can  survive ,  if  the  Spring  he 
real;  the  life  true. 

"Why,  Fieka,"  cried  old  Miller  Voss,  "where 
do  you  come  from?"  And  when  Fieka  threw  her- 
self on  his  neck,  and  told  him  all  about  it,  with  the 
tears  standing  in  her  eyes,  the  old  man  scolded  her, 
and  said  that  Heinrich  could  have  come  alone  quite 
well,  and  these  were  affairs  with  which  women  should 
not  meddle.  But  Kathsherr  Herse  declared  that  the 
Miller  understood  nothing  whatever  about  such 
matters,  and  that  Fieka's  idea  about  the  waggon 
was  so  good,  he  could  not  have  thought  of  a 
better  one  himself;  for  his  patent-leather  boots 
had  been  made  by  Bank  the  shoemaker  expressly 
for  the  Council-Chamber,  and  not  for  four  miles 
of  the  Mecklenburg  roads  at  this  time  of  year. 
And  when  baker  Witte  heard  of  the  basket  of 
sausages  and  milk-rolls,  he  patted  himself  on  the 
stomach  and  said  that  Fieka  was  his  "dear  god- 
child," and  that  though  he  was  one  of  those  people 
who  carry  a  good  provision-chest  inside  them,  yet  cir- 
cumstances alter  a  case,  and  in  weather  like  this 
"the  best  oven  must  sometimes  have  extra  fuel." 

The  French  sergeant  had  now  brought  the  Colo- 
nel's orders  to  the  guard,  and  the  company  mounted 

In  the  Year  '13.  13 


194  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

into  the  waggon,  and  made  themselves  as  warm  and 
comfortable  as  they  could.  My  uncle  Herse  appro- 
priated to  himself  the  wraps  intended  for  my  father, 
because  as  his  colleague  he  had  the  next  best  right 
to  them;  and  he  swore  at  lean-bodied  people  in 
general,  and  my  father  in  particular.  About  height, 
he  said,  he  would  say  nothing,  for  that  was  a  thing 
which  no  one  could  give  or  take  away  from  him- 
self, but  every  reasonable  man  could  in  time  obtain 
the  proper  amount  of  breadth. 

''Look  here,  Meister  Witte,  this  is  supposed  to 
be  a  coat  for  a  full  and  well-grown  man!"  And  so 
saying,  he  held  up  my  Father's  coat  in  the  air,  as  a 
public  spectacle. 

"Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  baker  "Witte,  "put  your 
arms  through  the  sleeves  with  the  coat  hind  part 
before,  so  that  the  Burmeister's  back-piece  comes 
upon  your  breast;  and  here  is  another  coat,  which  I'll 
hang  over  your  back  for  you,  and  so  we  shall  make 
one  good  coat  out  of  two  little  ones;  'necessity  is  the 
mother  of  invention!'" 

Well,  this  was  done,  and  my  uncle  Herse  looked 
like  a  fine  fat  oyster,  sent  on  a  long  journey;  behind 
and  before  he  had  a  firm  shell,  but  at  the  sides  it 
gaped  open  from  time  to  time.  Baker  Witte  had 
got  a  silk  cloak  that  had  belonged  to  his  late  wife, 
and  he  put  it  on  with  the  rabbit-skin  lining  outside, 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  195 

because  he  said  the  rain  would  spoil  the  silk,  but  it 
could  not  hurt  the  skin,  for  as  far  as  he  knew, 
rabbits  always  ran  about  with  the  furry  side  of  their 
skin  turned  outwards. 

The  dressing -up  of  these  two  went  on  pretty 
quickly,  but  with  the  Miller  it  was  a  long  affair,  for 
when  he  heard  that  the  great-coat  with  the  seven 
capes  which  was  intended  for  him,  belonged  to  the 
Herr  Amtshauptmann,  he  was  first  of  all  overwhelmed 
with  respect  and  made  bow  after  bow  to  it,  as  if  the 
old  gentleman  were  standing  before  him  and  wished 
him  to  enter  first;  and  then  he  was  overcome  with 
feeling  at  the  idea  of  the  Amtshauptmann  having 
thought  of  him  in  his  trouble,  and  said  he  was  not 
worthy  of  it;  and  when  Fieka  had  got  one  sleeve 
on,  the  thought  struck  him  that  he  might  be  taken 
for  some  one  of  high  rank. 

"And,  neighbour,"  he  turned  to  Witte,  "suppos- 
ing I  were  to  begin  to  speak  now,  and  the  ass's  ears 
were  to  show  above  the  seven  capes!" 

"Yes,  neighbour,"  replied  the  baker,  "you're 
right  there;  you  can't  make  a  silk  purse  out  of  a 
sow's  ear;  but  you  can  hold  your  tongue;  —  or  else 
speak  High  German.     You  can,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  can  —  after  a  fashion,"  said  the  Miller, 
and  seated  himself  on  the  foremost  sack. 

They  were  now  all  seated  except  Heinrich. 

13* 


196  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 

"Why,  Heinricli,"  said  Miller  Voss,  "there's 
surely  room  for  you  on  your  own  waggon!  Come 
a  little  nearer,  Fieka,  and  make  room  for  your 
cousin." 

But  Heinrich  would  not  have  it  so;  he  put  the 
horse-cloth  round  Fieka's  feet,  and  said  he  would 
walk  on  in  front.  This  he  did,  now  jumping  over  a 
ditch  and  then  hack  again,  and  always  keeping 
where  he  could  watch  Fieka's  face. 

"Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  the  Miller,  "that's  my 
cousin,  Joe  Voss's  son,  he's  a  fine  fellow,  isn't  he?" 

And  Rathsherr  Herse  said:  "That  he  is.  Miller, 
he's  a  handsome  young  fellow." 

And  haker  Witte  said:  "He's  a  jolly  fellow." 

Fieka  said  nothing,  hut  she  thought  to  herself: 
"He's  a  good  and  faithful  fellow,"  and  she  might 
perhaps  have  gone  on  thinking  ahout  him;  but  all 
at  once  Heinrich  was  at  her  side,  looking  at  her 
lovingly,  and  asking  whether  she  were  not  cold. 
Thinking  was  of  course  at  an  ei^d  now,  and  she 
gave  him  her  hand:  "Just  feel  how  warm  I  am." 

Witte  now  dived  into  the  sausage-and-roll  basket, 
and  gave  everyone  his  share;  and,  on  hearing  the 
Herr  Rathsherr  praise  the  milk-rolls,  the  old  baker 
said  to  himself:  "Now  look  at  the  fellow!  And  yet 
he  goes  and  buys  his  bread  of  Guhle;  but  an  owl 
is  a  bird,  when  you  have  got  no  other." 


IN  THE  YEAR  'l3.  197 

The  Herr  Rathslierr  leant  over  towards  tlie  baker 
and  whispered  in  his  ear:  "Look,  Meister  Witte, 
there  is  the  ^Bremsenkranz'  Inn  just  before  usj  and  if 
the  minions  of  the  Corsican  monster  have  a  trace  of 
human  feeling  left  in  them,  they  won't  mind  our 
getting  a  drop  to  wash  down  our  rolls  with."  But  while 
saying  this,  he  had  neglected  his  bread,  and  had  let 
it  and  the  sausage  dangle  a  little  over  the  side  of 
the  waggon.  All  at  once  he  felt  a  slight  tug  at  his 
fingers,  and  on  his  looking  round  he  beheld  one  of 
the  Corsican's  "minions"  quietly  biting  into  his 
sausage  and  roll,  and  as  he  was  about  to  lift  his 
voice  up  against  such  a  manifest  act  of  pillage, 
another  of  the  Frenchmen  put  his  arm  over  the 
back  of  the  waggon  and  seized  the  whole  basket. 

"Confound  it!"  cried  my  uncle  Herse,  "I  did 
not  think  that  things  had  come  to  such  a  pass  as 
this." 

Old  Witte  burst  out  afresh  with  a  "cursed 
thieves*,"  and  the  Miller,  who  was  driving,  so 
thoroughly  forgot  his  position,  wrapped  up  as  he 
was  in  the  Amtshauptmann's  warm  overcoat,  that  he 
raised  his  whip,  and  was  just  going  to  lay  it  about 
the  Frenchmen's  shoulders,  when  Fieka  caught  him 
by  the  arm: 

"For  God's  sake,  father,  what  are  you  doing?" 

"Hm  —  yes  — "   said   the    Miller,   recollecting 


198  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

himself,  "you  are  right  again,  Fieka,"  and  he  turned 
to  the  Frenchmen:  "Don't  take  it  ill,  I  did  not  mean 
anything." 

Well,  they  evidently  were  not  going  to  take  it 
ill  at  all ,  for  they  ate  away  at  the  rolls  and  sausages 
with  such  apparent  relish,  that  the  Herr  Rathsherr 
was  filled  with  spleen  and  gall.  And  now  the  whole 
party  became  once  more  conscious  of  their  position, 
which  they  had  for  a  time  forgotten  in  the  warmth 
and  comfort  of  the  waggon.  They  drove  thus 
towards  Brandenburg  far  into  the  grey  evening,  and 
where  the  basket  of  rolls  had  stood,  were  now  only 
sorrow  and  care  and  thought,  which  whispered  into 
their  ears  all  manner  of  dreadful  stories;  and  once, 
when  a  flight  of  crows  passed  over  them,  my  uncle 
Herse  said: 

"Yes,  you  can  laugh  —  you  have  no  cares." 

And  the  baker  said:  "No,  and  they  pay  no  taxes 
and  no  duties."  And  the  Miller  sighed  and  said: 
"I  wish  I  were  a  crow." 

But  in  two  hearts  care  found  no  place;  love 
had  entered  into  them  with  its  princely  company  of 
Secret  Wishes  and  Hope  and  Trust;  and  the  Secret 
Wishes  flew  through  the  whole  household  of  the 
heart  and  into  all  its  recesses,  like  active  brides- 
maids, —  pushed  aside  all  that  stood  in  the  way, 
and   wiped    the    dust    from   table   and    chair,    and 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  199 

cleaned  the  windows,  so  that  one  could  see  far  out 
into  the  beautiful  country  called  Life*,  and  they  spread 
the  table  in  the  bright  room,  and  made  the  bed  in 
the  quiet  room,  and  hung  fresh  garlands  of  flowers 
and  evergreens  over  windows  and  door,  and  beau- 
tiful pictures  on  the  walls.  And  Hope  lit  her 
thousand  wax-lights,  and  then  sat  down  quietly  in 
a  corner  as  if  it  had  not  been  at  all  she  who  had 
done  this,  but  her  step-sister,  Eeality.  And  Trust 
stood  at  the  door  and  let  no  one  in  who  had  not  on 
a  wedding-garment;  and  she  said  to  Care,  when  she 
asked  after  Fieka:  "Begone,  the  old  Miller  will 
dance  at  her  wedding-,"  and  to  Doubt,  when  she 
asked  after  Heinrich:  "Go  thy  way,  it  is  all  right." 


200  IN   THE   YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Why  I  send  the  Miller's  Friedrich  and  not  a  princess  through  the 
Giilzow  Wood;  why  Friedrich  called  the  Bailiff  Besserdich, 
"Father-in-law;"  how  he  "decoyed  the  dog  from  behind  the 
stove ; "  and  how  Luth ,  the  messenger ,  could  not  help  laughing  at 
his  own  Burmeister. 

If  any  little  Miss  who  reads  this  book  should 
feel  angry  with  me  for  beginning  this  chapter  with 
a  miller's  man  and  not  with  a  princess,  she  must 
remember  that  there  could  be  no  princesses  at  all, 
if  there  were  no  millers'  men,  and  that  sometimes 
a  miller's  man  is  of  more  value  than  a  princess  — 
for  example,  to  me  at  this  moment.  For,  if  I  want 
to  catch  the  French  chasseur,  I  must  not  send  a 
princess,  with  a  crinoline  and  satin  shoes,  through 
the  Gulzow  Wood  in  such  weather  and  along  such 
roads ,  —  but  a  miller's  man.  And ,  best  of  all ,  the 
Miller's  Friedrich. 

"Dumouriez!"  said  Friedrich,  as  he  followed 
the  chasseur's  track,  "if  the  Frenchman  is  to  be 
found  between  here  and  Gripswold,  I'll  have  him." 

Friedrich  traced  the  chasseur  through  the  Stem- 
hagen  Wood,  and  through  the  Gulzow  Wood,  and 
at  last  reached  the  Gulzow  road;  but  there  he  came 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  201 

to  a  standstill  —  an  owl  would  liave  been  puzzled; 
there  was  nothing  to  serve  as  a  guide.  Had  the 
fellow  turned  to  the  right  or  to  the  left? 

For  a  while  Friedrich  stood  there  —  like  Matz 
Fots  of  Dresden;  but  soon  a  bright  thought  flashed 
across  him,  and  he  said  to  himself,  —  "If  the  rascal 
has  taken  the  road  to  Stemhagen ,  it  must  have  been 
thi'ough  sheer  stupidity.  No,  the  fellow  has  gone 
towards  Gtilzow."  And  he  went  that  way  accord- 
ingly- 

At  Gulzow,  Freier,  an  old  peasant,  was  standing 
by  his  hedge,  throwing  stones,  as  big  round  as  the 
brim  of  your  hat,  into  the  holes  in  the  road.  In 
some  places  in  Mecklenburg  this  is  what  they  call 
"mending  the  roads." 

"Good  morning,  Freier;  have  you  seen  a  French- 
man pass  by  here  this  morning?"  said  Friedrich. 

"A  Frenchman?"  asked  Freier. 

"Yes,"  said  Friedrich;  "a  French  chasseur." 

"A  chasseur?"  asked  Freier. 

"Yes,  in  a  green  uniform,"  said  Friedrich. 

"On  horseback?"  asked  Freier. 

"No,  on  foot,"  said  Friedrich. 

"What  does  he  want?"  asked  Freier? 

"What  does  he  want?"  asked  Friedrich.  ''Re 
doesn't  want  anything;  but  /  want  to  speak  to 
him." 


202  IN  THE  YEAR   '13. 

"What  have  you  got  to  speak  about  to  a 
Frenchman?" 

"Dumouriezl'^said  Friedrich.  "What  business  is 
that  of  yours,  you  blockhead?  I  only  ask  you  if 
you  have  seen  such  a  fellow?" 

"In  a  green  uniform?"  asked  Freier. 

"Yes,"  said  Friedrich. 

"With  a  shako?" 

"No,  with  his  head  bare." 

"With  his  head  bare!  And  this  morning  in  the 
rain?" 

"Yes,  you  hear,  I  tell  you  so,"  cried  Friedrich, 
angrily.  "Just  answer  me  simply:  have  you  seen 
the  fellow  or  have  you  not?" 

"Wait  a  moment.     Isn't  to-day  Thursday?" 

"Yes,"  said  Friedrich. 

"Well,  then  it  was  not  to-day;  it  was  last  Mon- 
day, and  there  were  a  lot  of  them,  but  in  blue 
uniforms,  and  on  horseback;  and  my  boy,  Zamel,  has 
gone  to-day  to  Stemhagen  with  our  team  for  them." 

"Freier,"  said  Friedrich,  "you  should  not  have 
sent  your  team  to  Stemhagen;  you  can  make  a 
better  use  of  it  yourself,  especially  when  youVe  got 
to  give  answers  to  people." 

"How  so?"  asked  Freier. 

"And  Freier,"  pursued  Friedrich;  "I  know  what 
would  be   a  good    employment   for  you  —  driving 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  203 

crabs  to  Berlin ;  a  fellow  like  you  would  get  on  well 
at  that." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Freier,  more  and 
more  mystified. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  said  Friedrich.  "And  now, 
good-morning,  Freier.  And  if  the  Frenchman  I  am 
looking  for  should  come  by,  just  tell  him,  that  I  said, 
that  you  said,  that  your  great  grandmother  had  told 
you,  when  he  said  what  he  said,  that  you  should 
say,  that  I  had  said  he  was  not  to  call  you  an  ass. 
And  now  good-bye,  Freier." 

"What?"  said  Freier,  following  him  with  his 
eyes  as  he  went  along  the  village,  and  turning 
round  in  his  hands  a  stone  of  some  thirty  pounds 
weight*,  "What?  Se  said,  that  /  said,  that  you 
said,  that  I  should  say,  he  should  not  call  me  an 
ass?  The  cursed  Prussian  rascal!  That's  the  way 
he  always  does."  And  he  took  the  stone  and  threw 
it,  with  all  his  might  —  amongst  the  rest. 

Friedrich  goes  further.  Bailiff  Besserdich  looks 
out  at  his  doorway.  "Bailiff,  have  you  seen  a 
Frenchman  pass  by  here  this  morning?" 

"A  Frenchman?"  asked  the  bailiff.  "Well, 
they  are  not  so  rare  just  now  as  all  that;  but  this 
morning,  do  you  say?" 

"What,  are  you  going  to  begin  asking  questions 
now?"   said  Friedrich.      "I  would  rather  tell  you 


204  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

the  story  at  once;  it's  the  quickest  plan."  So  he 
told  him  the  story.  ''And,"  he  concluded,  "I  must 
have  him." 

'^That  you  must,  Friedrich,"  said  the  bailiff. 
"And  I  will  go  with  you;  in  fact  it's  what  I'm 
appointed  for;  and  our  Herr  Amtshauptmann  said 
to  me  lately  —  'Besserdich,'  said  he,  'on  you 
depends  everything  in  Giilzow,'  and  he  gave  me  a 
bundle  of  papers,  and  said,  'the  msitter  is  pressm(/.^ 
Well,  I  got  the  summoner  to  read  them  to  me,  and 
when  he  had  done,  he  said:  'The  matter  requires 
the  greatest  speed,  bailiff.'  'No,'  said  I,  'I  know 
better;  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  told  me  the  matter 
was  pressing^  and  whenever  he's  said  that  to  me 
before,  I  have  always  waited  a  full  month  first, 
and  been  ready  in  good  time  all  the  same!'  And 
so  I  was  that  time.  But,  Friedrich,  your  business 
is  not  pressing^  it  'requires  the  greatest  speed.'  I 
will  just  fetch  my  hat  and  then  we  will  go." 

This  done,  they  set  off.  As  they  came  out  on 
the  road  at  the  other  end  of  the  village,  the  bailiff 
said  — 

"Friedrich,  my  Hans  —  you  know  the  boy;  he's 
now  in  his  sixteenth  year,  but  I  thought  I  would 
have  him  at  home  for  a  year  or  so  longer  —  he's 
keeping  the  sheep  here  in  the  rye-field;  for,  you 
see,  I  thought  to  myself  my  fodder   has   run  short. 


IN  THE   YEAR  '13.  205 

and  at  this  time  of  year  tliey  can  get  a  meal  for 
themselves  in  the  fields,  so  I'll  turn  them  out  here; 
—  he  has  perhaps  seen  the  fellow." 

They  now  asked  Hans.  Yes,  the  boy  had  seen 
him;  he  had  gone  to  Pinnow.  At  Pinnow  they 
passed  the  schoolmaster's ,  and  asked  whether  he  had 
seen  a  Frenchman, 

The  schoolmaster's  name  was  "Sparrow,"  but 
he  was  always  called  "Bullfinch;"  some  said,  be- 
cause he  could  sing  so  well;  others,  because  he 
hopped  about  and  poked  his  nose  everywhere,  and 
was  always  chaffing.  The  Bullfinch  found  it  easy 
to  lead  the  bailiff  by  the  nose,  but  Friedrich  soon 
saw  what  was  going  on;  and,  when  he  saw  that 
the  Bullfinch  made  a  sign  to  his  wife  to  row  in  the 
same  boat  with  him,  he  thought  to  himself  —  "Wait 
a  moment.  Til  make  you  look  blue  presently;"  and 
he  got  up,  and  said  he  wished  to  go  and  light  his 
pipe  at  the  kitchen  fire. 

The  Bullfinch  now  began  to  overwhelm  the 
bailiff  with  all  sorts  of  stories;  and  when  Besserdich 
succeeded  in  getting  in  a  word,  and  asked  whether 
they  had  not  seen  the  Frenchman,  the  Bullfinch 
said  no,  and  his  wife  also  said,  no. 

Whilst  they  were  going  on  in  this  way.  Fried- 
rich  came  in  again,  and  said :" Something  must  have 


206  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 

happened  to  your  chimney,  for  the  stick  with  the 
sausages  has  fallen  down  on  to  the  ground." 

The  wife  jumped  up,  ran  out  to  the  kitchen, 
and  then  came  back  with  the  stick  in  her  hand  — 
"Look  there  now!  This  is  the  thanks  we  get! 
That  shameless  fellow  has  stolen  one  of  our  sausages." 

"What  fellow?"  asked  Friedrich. 

"Why,  the  French  fellow  you  were  asking 
about." 

"Oh!  so  he  has  been  here  then,  has  he?"  said 
Friedrich. 

"I  should  think  so!  And  Sparrow  gave  him 
some  brandy  and  some  bread-and-butter ,  and  showed 
him  the  way  to  Demzin!" 

"Well,  good-bye,  then,"  said  Friedrich.  "Come 
along,  bailiff*,  we  know  all  we  want  now." 

"Bailiff,"  said  Friedrich,  when  they  were  some 
way  from  Pinnow  and  the  Bullfinch,  "you  are  a 
sort  of  man  of  law,  and  must  needs  know  this  — 
what  is  the  punishment  for  stealing  a  sausage?" 

"Well,  Friedrich,"  replied  the  bailiff,  "I  don'i 
know  about  sausages,  but  I  know  very  well  the 
punishment  for  stealing  a  flitch  of  bacon;  for  when 
the  lame  shoemaker  took  one  of  mine  out  of  the 
smoke,  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  gave  him  a  fort- 
night in  prison  and  a  dozen  on  his  jacket  into  the 
bargain." 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  207 

"Well,  that's  not  dangerous,"  said  Friedrich; 
"and,  if  you  reckon  according  to  that,  it  would  be 
precious  little  for  one  sausage." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?" 

"Well  now,  bailiff,  tell  me;  when  you  kill  seven 
pigs,  how  many  flitches  of  bacon  do  you  get?" 

"Fourteen,"  said  the  bailiff. 

"That's  not  true,"  said  Friedrich;  "you  only  get 
thirteen.     One  is  taken  for  the  sausages." 

"Yes,  you're  right,"  said  the  bailiff. 

"Well  then,  how  many  sausages  does  your  wife 
make  out  of  seven  pigs?  About  thirty,  doesn't  she? 
Then  one  flitch  makes  thirty  sausages;  and  so,  for 
one  sausage,  there  would  be,  at  most,  half  a  day 
and  half  a  blow;  and  that  I  consider  is  a  righteous 
and  merciful  punishment;  you  may  at  once  give  me 
the  half-blow  on  my  back,  and  the  half-day  I  will 
spend  next  Sunday  afternoon  in  your  house,  in  the 
corner  behind  the  stove.  For,  look  here  —  /  took 
the  Bullfinch's  sausage." 

"What  Devil  tempted  you  to  do  that?" 

"No  Devil,  only  hunger,"  said  Friedrich,  and  he 
drew  the  sausage  out  of  his  pocket,  and  cut  off  a 
piece.  "Here  Bailiff!  The  sausage  is  good,  you  can 
eat  it  without  bread." 

_  "No,'^  said  the  Bailiff,   "I'll  have  nothing  to  do 
with  stolen  goods." 


208  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

"How,  Stolen?"  asked  Friedrich.  "This  is 
merely  'forage'  as  we  used  to  say  under  the  Duke 
of  Brunswick.  And,  Bailiff,  surely  you  have  climbed 
up  into  the  priest's  apple-tree  often  enough  before 
now." 

"The  Devil  only  knows  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  this  morning!"  said  Besserdich.  "Yes,  I  have 
when  I  was  a  silly  youngster;  but  now  I  have 
grown-up  children,  and  must  set  them  a  good 
example." 

"That's  true,"  said  Friedrich-,  "what  one  may 
do,  another  mayn't.  —  Bailiff,"  he  added,  after  a 
while,  "how  old  is  your  daughter  Hanchen?" 

"Well,  Friedrich,"  said  the  Bailiff,  and  his  eyes 
began  to  twinkle,  "she's  not  old,  she  is  only  just 
eighteen;  but  I  tell  you,  she's  as  sharp  as  a 
needle." 

"I  know  that,"  said  Friedrich;  "I  sat  by  her 
side  yesterday  evening  up  at  the  Stemhagen  Schloss, 
and  I  can  fully  say  she  pleased  me  so  well  that 
I  should  be  ready  to  change  my  state  to  please 
her." 

"Come,  come,  you  are  going  too  fast,"  said 
the  Bailiff,  and  he  looked  at  Friedrich  from  top  to 
toe. 

"Yes,"  said  Friedrich,  "and  I  thought  you  might 
find  some  other  farm  for  your   Fritz;    and,    as  you 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  209 

are  getting  old  you  might  lay  yourself  on  the  shelf, 
and  could  give  us  your  land*,  and  then  Hanchen 
and  I  should  have  a  nice  home,  and  you  would 
have  a  deal  of  pleasure  in  us. 

"By  Heaven!"  cried  the  Bailiff,  "are  you  really 
in  earnest?" 

"Why  not?"  said  Friedrich;  "do  I  look  as  if  I 
were  joking?" 

.  "What?"  cried  Besserdich;  "An  old  beggar  like 
you  want  to  marry  a  Bailiff's  daughter!  My 
daughter!  A  young  girl  of  eighteen!" 

"Mind  what  you're  saying.  Bailiff,"  said  Fritz. 
"Old,  say  you?  Just  look  at  me,  I  am  in  my  prime, 
—  between  twenty  and  fifty.  A  beggar,  say  you? 
I  have  never  asked  you  for  so  much  as  a  pipe  of 
tobacco.  It's  true  your  Hanchen  is,  on  the  whole, 
younger  than  I  am,  but  I  don't  object  to  that.  I'll 
take  her  all  the  same,  for  she  is  clever,  and  knows 
that  a  fellow  like  me  who  has  seen  the  world,  is 
worth  more  than  one  of  your  young  peasants  with 
red  cheeks  and  flaxen  hair,  who  makes  a  bow 
like  a  clasp-knife  and  spits  about  in  folk's  rooms." 

"Have  you  been  putting  these  notions  in  the 
girl's  head?"  shouted  the  Bailiff,  raising  his  stick 
against  him. 

"Put  down  your  stick.  Bailiff,"  said  Friedrich; 
"what  would  people  say  if  they  heard  that  I  had 

Jn  the  Year  '13.  14 


210  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

been  fig-hting  with  mj  fatlier-in-law ,  in  the  open 
country,  before  the  wedding?" 

The  Bailiff  let  his  stick  drop. 

"No,  I  could  take  a  sausage  from  a  fellow  like 
the  Bullfinch,"  Friedrich  w^ent  on-,  ''but  I  could  not 
cheat  a  pretty,  young  thing  like  that  of  her  hap- 
piness; I  put  no  notions  into  your  Hanchen's 
head." 

The  Bailiff  looked  at  him  out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye  as  if  he  would  say,  "The  Devil  may  trust 
you!"  but  he  said  nothing.  They  now  went  on 
again,  —  but  the  egg  was  broken. 

When  they  arrived  at  Demzin,  Friedrich  went 
up  to  a  young  clerk  who  was  standing  near  them 
and  said:  "I  beg  your  pardon,  have  you  seen  a 
Frenchman  pass  by?"  And  so  on,  and  so  on.  The 
young  man  said  yes;  that  rather  less  than  an  hour 
before,  such  a  fellow  had  passed. 

They  walked  through  the  village,  and,  at  the 
other  end  an  old  woman  had  also  seen  the  Chas- 
seur. "We  shall  soon  have  him  now,"  said 
Friedrich. 

But  a  little  further  on  they  met,  in  the  fields, 
an  old  man  who  was  cutting  willows  near  the  path 
and  he  knew  nothing  of  any  Frenchman,  and  said 
the  fellow  had  not  passed  since  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  211 

What  was  to  be  done  now?  Follow  the  road 
straight  on?  That  would  be  a  regular  wild-goose 
chase.  But  the  fellow  had  certainly  gone  out  of  the 
village;  where  had  he  stopped? 

The  Bailiff  scratched  his  head;  Friedrich  looked 
all  round  and  surveyed  the  country.  At  last  he 
said;  —  "We  can  go  no  further,  Bailiff;  the  trace 
is  at  an  end  here;  so  we  must  think  the  matter 
over.  But  the  wind  is  cold,  let  us  go  and  sit  down 
by  that  oven  yonder."* 

Well,  they  did  so.  "What  a  fool  I  was,"  said 
the  Bailiff,  "to  go  running  after  a  Frenchman  in  this 
weather!" 

"Father-in-law,  leave  the  Frenchman  alone," 
said  Friedrich;  "we  shall  get  him  yet." 

"Are  you  going  to  begin  again  with  your  'fathers- 
in-law,'  you  Prussian  knave?" 

"What  you  are  not,  you  may  become.  Bailiff. — 
I  have  known  many  people  who  have  given  their 
daughters  and  plenty  of  money  into  the  bargain,  for 
that  name." 

*  In  Mecklenburg  there  are  no  bakers  in  the  villages;  but  each 
village  has  one  or  two  ovens  where  the  whole  community  can  do  their 
baking.  These  ovens  stand  by  themselves  out  in  the  open  fields ,  and 
look  at  a  little  distance  like  small  hillocks.  They  are  covered  with 
grass,  and  are  lined  inside  with  large  stones.  They  are  so  large 
that  a  man  can  get  in  at  the  mouth  with  ease ,  and  lie  there  in  hiding. 
As  there  is  no  chimney,  the  heat  naturally  remains  in  them  a  long 
while.  —  Translator. 

14* 


212  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

"Yes,  but  then  they  got  rather  different  sons-in- 
law." 

"Now,  just  look  at  me.  Bailiff,"  said  Friedrich, 
and  he  placed  himself  before  the  Bailiff  as  erect  as 
he  could  make  himself;  "I'm  not  a  lawyer,  nor  yet 
a  doctor,  but  I  have  sound  bones,  and  my  hands 
speak  of  work.  And  if  you  don't  trust  your  own 
eyes  you  can  ask  my  Miller." 

"Yes,  and  do  you  know  what  he'll  say?  He'll 
say  you  are  steady  enough  and  understand  a  thing 
or  two,  but  that  your  sayings  are  not  the  sort  to 
'tice  a  dog  away  from  a  warm  stove  (oven)." 

"I'll  soon  show  you  whether  they  are.  But  now, 
Bailiff,  will  you  give  me  your  Hanchen?" 

"Damnation!"  cried  the  Bailiff.  "I  thought  at 
first  it  was  only  a  joke.  But  now  I  do  believe 
you're  in  earnest." 

"I  was  joking  about  the  farm  and  your  laying 
yourself  on  the  shelf,  Bailiff,"  said  Friedrich,  "for 
your  Fritz  must  of  course  have  the  farm.  But  I  am 
in  earnest  about  Hanchen,  and  I  shall  easily  get  a 
farm." 

"You  boaster!"  said  the  Bailiff;  "there  now, 
that's  one  of  your  sayings,  which,  as  I  said,  will 
'tice  no  dog  away  from  a  stove." 

"I  will  show  you  if  they  can  or  not,"  said 
Friedrich. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  213 

"You  braggart!"  said  the  Bailiff,  getting  up-,  "I 
shall  go  home,  and  you  can  go  and  catch  your 
Frenchman  by  yourself." 

*'I  have  got  him,"  said  Friedrich. 

"You  sack  of  lies!"  again  cried  the  Bailiff. 

"Bailiff,"  said  Friedrich-,  "if  the  Frenchman 
stands  before  you  in  three  minutes,  and  so  my 
sayings  entice  a  dog  away  from  an  oven,  will  you 
give  me  your  Hanchen?"  And  he  held  his  hand 
out  to  him.  —  "Shake  hands  upon  it." 

"There's  my  hand,"  cried  the  Bailiff-,  "just  to 
show  you  that  you  are  nothing  but  a  boasting 
braggart." 

And  they  shook  hands  on  it.  Friedrich  gave  a 
broad  grin  and  stooped  down  to  the  mouth  of  the 
oven: 

"Mossoo,  allong  ici  —  allong  ici."  —  And 
what  should  creep  out  into  the  light  but  the  French- 
man! 

"Eh!  Damn !"  cried  the  Bailiff. 

^^  Pardon^  Monsieur,^''  said  the  Frenchman. 

"Who  has  won  the  bet  now.  Bailiff?"  asked 
Friedrich.  "Here  is  the  Frenchman  and  the  dog 
too.     Who  is  to  have  your  Hanchen  now?" 

"Prussian  vagabond,"  cried  the  Bailiff,  and 
raised  his  stick  again,   "Do  you  think  you  can  fool 


214  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

me  into  this?    You  have  my  Hanchen  .  .  .!   I  would 
rather  ..." 

"Put  down  your  stick,  Bailiff,  you  frighten  the 
Frenchman.  Better  come  over  here  and  help  me 
to  secure  him;  we  can  talk  about  the  bet  after- 
wards." 

"P^r^o;^,"  threw  in  the  Chasseur. 

"Pardong  here,  and  pardong  there,"  cried  Fried- 
rich;  "what  do  you  mean  by  running  away  from 
the  beech-tree  where  I  had  laid  you  comfortably. 
This  time  I'll  treat  you  in  my  fashion;  Mamsell 
Westphalen  is  not  here  now,"  and,  so  saying,  he 
cut  the  buttons  off  the  Frenchman's  trowsers:  "And 
now,  allong,  avang!"  —  And  in  this  way,  they  set  off 
back  through  Demzin  towards  Pinnow. 

The  Bailiff  walked  by  their  side  in  the  heavy 
rain,  silent  —  and  angry,  though  chiefly  with  him- 
self; for  whenever  he  tried  to  throw  the  blame  on 
Friedrich's  shoulders,  he  could  not  help  saying  to 
himself:  "He  is  a  rascal,  —  but  he's  a  devilish 
clever  fellow  too.  How  could  he  know,  I  wonder, 
that  the  Frenchman  was  lying  in  the  oven.  And 
then  his  cutting  off  the  buttons,  what  could  he 
mean  by  that?  I  must  make  a  note  of  the  trick." 

When  they  came  to  Grtilzow,  Friedrich  said:  — 
"Why,   Bailiff,   who  is   that   coming  hunting   along 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  2  15 

over  your  field?  What  is  he  riding  like  that  for? 
He  cannot  ride  faster  than  the  rain." 

*' Heavens!"  said  the  Bailiff;  "why  that  is  In- 
spector Brasig's  brown  mare,  and  the  man  on  it  is 
the  Stemhagen  Burmeister." 

My  father  approached,  and  when  he  saw  the 
Frenchman  and  Friedrich  he  said:  "Now  it's  all 
right."  —  "But,"  he  added,  "first  to  your  house, 
Bailiff,  for  my  soul  is  freezing  in  my  body,  and  I 
am  wet  to  the  skin." 

"I  see  you  are,  sir;  and  we  are  pretty  much  in 
the  same  state." 

Arrived  at  the  Bailiff's  house,  all  sorts  of  clothes 
were  brought  to  light  by  the  Bailiff's  goodwoman, 
but  it  was  hard  work  to  provide  for  all  three,  for 
the  bad  times  had  made  sad  havoc  in  the  Bailiff's 
wardrobe,  and  they  were  glad  enough  to  find  any- 
thing that  would  even  half  fit  them.  The  Bailiff 
could  get  no  other  covering  for  himself  than  his 
own  trowsers,  Friedrich  made  himself  look  very  fine 
in  Fritz's  Sunday  coat,  and  my  father,  as  the 
smallest,  had  to  content  himself  with  Hans's  jacket, 
which  of  course  the  Bailiff  did  not  wish,  and  made 
all  sorts  of  excuses  for.  But  when  a  person  finds 
himself  in  safety  after  being  in  an  unpleasant  pre- 
dicament, and  in  a  dry  place  after  being  out  in  the 
rain,   mirth   readily   gets   the  upper   hand,   and  my 


216  IN    THE   YEAR  '13. 

father,   on   seeing  himself  in  his  costume,   laughed 
till  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

"But,"  said  he,  suddenly  checking  himself,  and 
becoming  quite  grave,  "here  are  we  laughing  when 
there  is  a  fellow-being  amongst  us,  shivering,  not 
only  with  cold  but  with  fear;  and  we  ought  to  do 
what  we  can  for  him.  Dame,  you  must  help  the 
Frenchman  to  some  dry  things." 

But  that  was  not  so  easy,  and  when  they  had 
hunted  up  everything  else,  they  had  to  make  up 
with  the  Bailiff's  wife's  old  grey  skirt. 

"Eat  heartily,  comrade,"  said  Friedrich,  as  they 
sat  round  the  table  eating  the  afternoon  meal,  and 
he  pushed  a  piece  of  salt  meat  of  some  three  pounds 
weight  towards  the  Frenchman,  —  "Eat,  comrade, 
for  as  long  as  you  eat,  you  will  live." 

My  father  took  pity  on  the  fellow,  and  spoke 
a  few  words  to  him  in  French  in  a  comforting 
tone,  and  the  poor  sinner  answered  so  humbly 
and  dejectedly  that  it  quite  moved  the  Bailiff,  though 
he  understood  not  a  word  of  what  was  said,  and  he 
leant  over  to  my  father:  "Shall  we  let  the  fellow 
go,  Herr  Burmeister?" 

My  father  said,  no-,  that  would  not  do.  The 
Miller  and  the  Baker  were  in  trouble,  and  had  done 
no  wrong;   the  Frenchman  was  also  in  trouble,   but 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  217 

he  had  done  wrong;  and  right  was  right  and  what 
was  fair  to  one  was  fair  to  another. 

The  Bailiff's  Fritz  just  then  came  riding  into  the 
yard  with  the  team,  and  came  into  the  room. 

"Good  evening,  father,"  said  he;  ''I  have  got  off 
from  the  French,"  and  he  shook  hands  with  the 
Bailiff,  and  then  went  up  to  my  father,  whose  back 
was  turned  to  him,  and  gave  him  a  stout  cuff: 
"Good  evening,  Hans,  can't  you  speak  to  your 
brother?" 

My  father  started  and  turned  round;  Fritz  stood 
fixed  to  the  spot  like  Lot's  wife. 

"Lord  save  us!"  cried  the  Bailiff.  "He  comes 
in  here  and  goes  and  strikes  the  Stemhagen  Bur- 
meister  under  my  own  roof.  And  the  rascal  is  to 
be  a  bailiff  some  day!" 

"Never  mind,"  said  my  father.  "However,  as 
a  punishment  he  shall  have  no  rest  yet;  he  shall 
drive  us  over  to  Stemhagen  this  very  night." 

"Through  the  whole  world,  if  you  like,  Herr 
Burmeister,"  said  Fritz. 

"But  how  is  it  you  are  so  late  home?"  asked  the 
Bailiff. 

"Why,  father,  I  thought  it  might  be  ugly  if 
they  were  to  catch  me  and  so  I  led  the  horses  into 
the  Wood,  and  stood  on  the  watch;  and  I  meant  to 
stay  there   till   evening,    but  while   I  was   waiting. 


218  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

Lutli  came  along  and  told  me  the  French  had  been 
gone  a  long  time,  and  that  the  Burmeister  had 
escaped  from  them  and  that  he  was  looking  for 
him. 

"Wliere  is  Luth,  now,  then?"  asked  my  father. 

"He'll  be  here  directly,"  said  Fritz,  "he  only 
stopped  to  make  inquiries  at  the  schoolmaster's." 

Luth  came  in  presently,  and  when  he  asked  for 
my  father  and  saw  him  in  the  short  jacket,  he  lost 
all  control  over  himself,  forgot  everything  that  he 
had  meant  to  say,  and  burst  out  laughing. 

My  father  got  angry  at  this,  for  he  was  not 
thinking  of  the  jacket  now,  but  of  my  Mother  and 
all  at  home,  and  he  caught  Luth  by  the  collar:  — 
"Luth,  are  you  gone  mad?"  he  cried;  "What  are 
my  wife  and  children  doing?" 

"They  are  quite  well,  Herr  Burmeister  —  ha, 
ha,  ha!  And  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  is  reading 
out  of  a  book  to  the  Frau  Burmeister,  and  Mamsell 
Westphalen  is  stuffing  Fritz  with  buns  and  apples; 
but,  ha,  ha,  ha!  — don't  take  it  ill,  Herr  Burmeister ; 
I  can't  help  laughing." 

Friedrich  also  began  to  laugh,  and  the  Bailiff, 
and  Fritz;  and  the  Bailiff's  wife  said:  "The  Herr 
Burmeister  does  look  very  funny!"  —  My  father's 
heart  was  light  again  now,  so  he  could  join  in  the 
laugh. 


IN  THE   YEAR  '13.  219 

"You  may  laugh  now,  Luth,"  he  said,  "but 
make  haste,  for  I  have  some  pressing  business  for 
you.  The  French  took  away  the  valise  with  the 
gold  and  silver,  did  they  not?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  it  when  they  were  dragging  it 
off." 

"Be  quick  then.  You  will  find  Inspector  Brasig's 
brown  mare  in  the  stable;  take  it  and  ride  as  fast 
as  you  can  to  Kittendorf  to  the  Herr  Landrath  von 
Uertzen  —  for  it  was  there  the  Chasseurs  came  from 
yesterday,  and  they  no  doubt  got  the  silver  spoons 
there*,  —  and  then  tell  the  Herr  Landrath  how 
things  stand  in  Stemhagen,  and  ask  him  to  send  a 
trusty  man  back  with  you  who  can  swear  to  the 
spoons.  By  that  means  he  may,  perhaps,  be  able  to 
recover  his  property.  And  now,  away  with  you. 
And,  Fritz,  put  the  horses  to,  quickly." 

They  were  all  seated  in  the  waggon  in  no  time, 
except  indeed  the  Bailiff,  for  his  wife  would  not 
let  him  go:  "You  have  nothing  to  do  there;  you  can 
stop  at  home,"  she  said. 

"Wife"  said  the  Bailiff,  placing  one  foot  on  the 
wheel  and  the  other  on  the  shaft,  and  looking  down 
at  her,  "that's  against  our  agreement;  you  are  mis- 
tress in  the  house  and  I  am  master  in  my  bailiff's 
duties;  and  to  take  charge  of  a  prisoner  is  a  bailiff's 
duty." 


220  IN  THE   YEAR     13. 

And  so  saying  he  squeezed  himself  in  between 
Friedrich  and  the  Frenchman  on  one  sack. 
"Now  Fritz/'  he  cried,  "off  with  you.'' 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  221 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Proves  that  Friedrlch  was  not  really  a  thief;  and  relates  how  th« 
Emperor  Napoleon  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Rathsherr ; 
and  how  the  Colonel  had  secrets  with  the  Rathsherr. 

Before  the  Stemhagen  Eathhaus,  the  waggon 
drew  up,  and,  at  one  bound,  my  Father  was  down 
from  his  sack,  and  telling  the  others  to  stay  in  the 
waggon  till  he  called  them. 

As  he  came  into  the  Hall,  he  was  met  by  Marie 
Wienken  with  a  light,  for  it  had  gradually  got  dark. 
Marie,  who  was  our  housemaid,  on  seeing  my  Father 
in  Hans's  jacket  was  very  near  letting  the  light  fall, 
and  was  just  going  to  scream,  when  he  pushed  her 
quickly  into  his  room,  and  said  "Hold  your  tongue, 
Marie!     You  are  generally  a  sensible  girl." 

Marie  was  really  stupid;  but  nothing  brightens 
stupid  people  more  than  to  hear  themselves  called 
clever. 

"Is  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  still  here?"  asked 
my  Father. 

"Yes,  Herr." 

"Then  set  down  your  light,  and  go  into  the 
room  —  don't  let  my  wife  suspect  anything  —  and 


222  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

say  to  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  tliat  there  is  some 
one  outside  who  wishes  to  speak  to  him;  and  then 
bring  him  in  here." 

She  did  so  and  the  old  Herr  came  in. 

"Good  evening,  my  son,  what  is  it  you  want, 
and  what  are  you  doing  here  in  the  Burmeister's 
room?" 

"Herr  Amtshauptmann,  what  are  my  wife  and 
children  doing?" 

"What  do  I  know  of  your  wife  and  children, 
my  lad?  —  You're  young  to  have  a  wife  and  chil- 
dren." 

"A  thousand  devils!"  cried  my  father;  "don't 
you  know  me  then?     Why  I'm  the  Burmeister." 

"What  say  you,  eh?"  cried  the  old  Herr;  "that's 
quite  another  thing.  That's  a  very  strange  thing!  — 
Consul  Stavenhagenie7isis  in  a  boy's  jacket!  But  what 
says  Horace?  Nil  admirari  —  above  all  in  these  times, 
my  friend." 

"My  wife,  Herr  Amtshauptmann?" 

"She  knows  you  are  free  and  will  be  delighted 
to  see  you  back." 

"But?" 

"Well,  it  won't  do  her  any  harm  if  she  does  see 
you  in  a  short  jacket.     Come  along!" 

All  sudden  surprises,  even  pleasant  ones,  are 
painful.     When  joy  sounds  in  our  ears,  as  if,  all  at 


IN  THE   YEAR  '13.  223 

once  two  dozen  trumpets  had  been  blown  close  be- 
hind us,  we  feel  as  if  our  head  and  heart  were  split, 
and  the  most  beautiful  music  becomes  mere  pain. 
No!  I  love  joy  when  it  comes  like  a  singing  bird  in 
a  cool  wood,  coming  nearer  and  nearer  from  twig  to 
twig,  till  at  last  it  sings  its  song  full  in  my  ears 
from  the  nearest  bush. 

Joy  had  come  to  my  mother  rather  too  hastily 
at  first;  but  she  had  got  over  the  shock.  Now  it 
came  to  her  from  twig  to  twig;  and,  as  my  father 
entered  the  room,  it  sang  its  song  full  in  her  ears; 
the  bird  had  come  to  her  at  last  in  a  short  jacket, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  making  all  manner  of 
bobbings  to  her  out  of  the  bush;  she  laughed  with 
all  her  heart.  The  memory  of  this  day  was  pre- 
served amongst  us  down  to  the  latest  times,  and 
whenever  my  father  happened  to  return  home  from 
his  work  and  cares  in  a  particularly  happy  mood, 
we  used  to  say:  "father  has  got  his  short  jacket  on 
to-day." 

When  the  first  burst  of  happiness  was  somewhat 
over,  the  old  Herr  began :  "And  so  you  have  brought 
the  French  Chasseur  along  with  you,  my  friend?" 

"Not  /,"  said  my  father;  "the  Miller's  Friedrich 
has  done  the  greater  part  of  the  business ;  the  GtLlzow 
Bailifi"  helped  him." 

"This  Friedrich    must   be  a  clever  determined 


224  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

fellow/'  said  the  Amtshauptmann.  *'Eh,  what  say 
you?     Let  us  have  him  in." 

Friedrich  came  and  the  Bailiff  too. 

"Was  it  you,  Friedrich,  who  threw  the  French- 
man out  of  the  waggon?" 

Friedrich  thought  to  himself  —  "What?  Is  an- 
other court  of  justice  going  to  be  held?"  And  since 
he  must  needs  answer  the  Amtshauptmann's  ques- 
tion with  a  "y^5,"  he  planted  himself  firmly,  with 
one  leg  advanced,  and  stood  ready  prepared  for 
whatever  might  come:  "Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann," 
said  he. 

"And  are  you  aware  that  you  have  brought  the 
Miller  into  great  trouble?" 

"Trouble?  He's  pretty  well  used  to  troubles,  and 
one  more  won't  hurt  him." 

"Was  it  you  who  took  the  valise  from  the 
Frenchman's  horse?" 

"Yes,  Herr." 

"And  did  you  not  take  eight  groschen  of  the 
Frenchman's  property  ?  " 

"I  only  paid  myself  back  eight  groschen  of  my 
own,"  said  Friedrich  and  he  told  them  the  story. 

"You  took  them  contrary  to  law  and  right,  and 
what  is  he  called  who  does  that?" 

Friedrich  looked  boldly  at  the  old  Herr,  but  said 
not  a  word. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  225 

"BailijQTBesserdicli,  what  is  such  a  man  called?" 

"By  your  leave,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  a  thief!'' 
the  Bailiff  broke  out.  "And  he  is  one.  Herr,  it 
was  only  to-day  he  stole  one  of  Bullfinch's  sausages 
off  the  smoking-stick ,  —  and  the  fellow  wants  to 
marry  my  Hanchen!" 

"What  does  he  want  to  do?" 

"My  Hanchen,  Herr,  who  is  in  your  service, 
he  wants  to  marry  her." 

"Oh!  ho!"  said  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  and 
he  looked  atFriedrich  from  top  to  toe;  "that's  quite 
another  thing.  —  You  can  go  out  now,  my  son,  but 
I  shall  remember  you." 

Friedrich  went,  inwardly  cursing  the  Bailiff  and 
the  Herr  Amtshauptmann:  "What  does  he  want  to 
remember  me  for?"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  stood  in 
the  Hall. 

But  if  he  had  known  what  those  words  meant  in 
the  mouth  of  the  old  Herr,  he  would  not  have  been 
angry,  for  it  was  not  the  custom  of  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann to  remember  what  was  bad;  evil  passed  over 
his  head  without  touching  him,  but  if  ever  a  means 
of  doing  good  came  in  his  way,  he  was  only  afraid 
lest  he  should  lose  the  opportunity,  and  then  it  was 
always  "Neiting,  —  Fritz  Sahlmann,  — Westphalen, 
—  or  children,  —  help  me  remember." 

When  Friedrich  was  gone,   the  old  Herr  turned 

In  the  Year  '13.  -  15 


226  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

round  and  said,  laughing:  ''You  have  lost  Fritz 
Sahlmann's  sausage  of  this  morning,  Neiting;  the 
Pinnow  Bullfinch  must  have  it,  for,  if  this  rascal 
of  a  Friedrich  is  to  marry  the  Bailiff's  Hanchen,  we 
must  first  make  him  an  honest  man  again." 

"Yes,"  cried  my  father,  and  laid  down  an  eight 
groschen  piece  on  the  table*,  "and  here  is  the  money 
which  he  took  from  the  Frenchman." 

"Well,  and  now.  Bailiff,  when  is  the  wedding  to 
be?"  laughed  the  old  Herr. 

The  Bailiff  pulled  a  long  face,  and  looked  as 
if  some  one  behind  him,  had  suddenly  clapped  a 
pair  of  leather  spectacles  over  his  eyes,  so  as  to 
prevent  his  seeing  what  was  passing  around  him.  — 
"But,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  the  fellow  is  a  beggar," 
he  said  at  last. 

"Things  may  change,"  said  the  Amtshauptmann. 
"In  these  troubled  times  several  farms  in  this  parish 
have  become  vacant,  and  who  knows  what  the  High 
Ducal  Cabinet  may  think  of  Friedrich's  services." 

"Yes,  but  he  is  a  thief  as  well,  sir." 

"Do  not  let  me  hear  you  say  that  again.  Bailiff. 
When  he  took  the  eight  groschen  out  of  the  valise 
this  morning,  could  he  not  have  kept  the  whole? 
Who  would  have  known  anything  about  it?  And  if 
he  had   carried  it   off  across  the  Prussian  frontier, 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  227 

what  dog  would  have  barked ,  or  what  cock  would 
have  crowed  after  him?     What  say  you,  eh?" 

"Well,  sir,  but  the  eight  groschen  and  the 
sausage?" 

"The  one  he  looked  upon,  in  his  ignorance,  as 
his  right,  and  the  other  as  a  joke." 

"Well,  Herr,"  said  the  Bailiff  again,  and  he 
scratched  his  head,  "even  if  it  is  so, —  still  myHan- 
chen  is  too  young  for  the  old  lubber." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  for 
talking,  in  among  law  matters  and  farm  business," 
Mamsell  Westphalen  here  broke  in,  "but.  Bailiff 
Besserdich,  that's  all  stuff  and  nonsense,  for  it's  right 
that  a  silly  young  girl  like  your  Hanchen  should 
have  an  experienced  husband.  And,  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann, if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  to  say 
so,  he  is  a  determined  fellow  and  useful  in  times 
like  these;  and  last  night,  —  I  won't  say  anything 
against  Herr  Droi,  for  he  must  know  when  it  is  the 
proper  time  to  go  at  a  man  with  sword  and  gun,  — 
but  last  night  Friedrich  went  at  the  Frenchman  all 
alone  by  himself*,  and  though  his  sayings  are  not 
q[uite  proper  for  your  room  nor  yet  for  my  ears,  still 
I  could  not  help  saying  to  myself,  *  That's  the  man 
to  do  a  deed!'  And,  Bailiff,  the  two  would  do  well 
for  one  another,  for  what  he  is  for  deeds  she  is  for 
words*,   and,   Herr  Amtshauptmann,  she  can  keep  a 

15* 


228  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

man  at  arm's  length,  for  slie  has  a  blessed  sharp 
tongue  of  her  own,  and  that  I  can  speak  to." 

The  BailijBF  looked  at  Mamsell  Westphalen  and 
then  at  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann ;  —  he  was  quite 
dumb.  All  the  objections  which  he  had  made 
were  explained  away,  he  sought  for  fresh  ones  but 
found  none,  till,  at  length,  there  flashed  across  him 
the  thought  which  always  did  come  to  his  aid  at 
last,  and  he  scratched  his  head,  and  said  —  "Well, 
Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  I  must  hear  first  what  my 
wife  has  got  to  say  to  it." 

"Right,  Bailiff.  But,  above  all  you  must  hear 
first  what  Hanchen  says  to  it.  For  my  part  I  have 
only  wished  to  make  it  clear  to  you  that  Friedrich 
is  no  thief." 

And  so  the  matter  was  put  off  to  St.  Nobody's 
day,  as  we  say  in  Mecklenburg. 

The  Frau  Amtshauptmann  had  gone  back  to  the 
Schloss  with  Mamsell  Westphalen,  and  the  other 
part  of  the  company  were  getting  tired,  when  Luth 
came  back  from  his  ride  to  Kittendorf,  and  said  from 
the  Herr  Landrath  —  his  compliments  to  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann,  and  he  had  sent  his  own  valet-de- 
chambre  about  the  silver. 

Everything  was  now  ready:  The  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann had  only  to  write  a  letter  to  the  French 
Colonel.     My  father  told  Luth  exactly  what  he  was 


IN  THE  YEAR  'l3.  229 

to  do  and  say.  Friedrich  and  Luth  took  the  Chas- 
seur between  them  in  the  waggon.  The  valet  and 
Fritz  Besserdich  took  their  seats  in  front,  and  off 
they  went  through  the  dark  night  and  muddy  lanes 
towards  Brandenburg. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Bailiff,  as  he  walked  home  alone 
in  the  dark  towards  Giilzow,  "it's  all  very  well  for 
you  to  talk.  The  Amtshauptmann  and  Burmeister 
and  Mamsell  up  at  the  Schloss  are  grand  folks,  and 
have  nobody  over  them,  but  everybody  commands  a 
poor  bailiff  like  me.  Yes,  if  it  were  not  for  my 
wife,  —  and  the  fellow  were  not  a  thief,  —  and  he 
were  some  ten  years  younger  —  and  he  had  a  farm 
of  his  own ,  —  and  Hanchen  would  have  him ,  yes, 
then  —  then  —  no;  then  he  would  still  not  get  the 
girl,  for  her  mother  would  not  have  it " 

Now,  no  one  can  take  it  ill,  if  in  telling  an 
amusing  tale  I  have  no  wish  to  mix  up  horrible 
stories  with  it,  and  so  I  shall  not  say  more  than 
necessary  touching  the  French  Chasseur.  I  shall 
say  nothing  about  how  he  felt  when  he  got  to 
Brandenburg,  or  how  he  was  brought  before  the 
Court-martial,  and  nothing  about  how  the  anguish 
of  death  came  nearer  and  nearer,  until  he  met  the 
fate  his  evil  deeds  had  brought  upon  him.  And  I 
could  not  do  so,  even  if  I  wished;  for  I  only  write 
of  what  I  .know   and  this  I   don't  know.     I   have 


230  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

never  in  my  life  hardened  myself  so  far  as  to  be  able 
to  look  on  a  poor  sinner  led  out  for  the  last  time, 
and  to  see  how  one  sinner,  by  warrant  of  a  human 
court,  sends  another  sinner,  before  his  time  to  the 
Tribunal  of  the  Almighty.  But  let  me  say  shortly 
that  it  happened;  it  was  so.  —  And  when  his  bleed- 
ing body  lay  on  the  sand,  probably  no  one  thought 
that  the  bullets  would  strike  much  deeper  in  an- 
other heart,  far  away  in  France.  I  mean  his  old 
mother's. 

I  will  therefore  only  say  that,  through  the 
Frenchman's  being  given  up  safe  and  sound,  the 
Miller  and  the  Baker  were  acquitted  of  the  murder; 
and  that,  through  his  confession  and  through  the 
evidence  of  Inspector  Brasig  and  the  valet-de- 
chambre,  the  Landrath  von  Uertzen  came  to  his 
own  again;  and  the  Colonel  von  Toll,  when  the 
Judge  was  going  to  keep  back  the  money,  as  un- 
claimed property,  got  up,  and  said  severely,  that  his 
regiment  should  not  be  branded  with  robbing  and 
thieving.  And  so  saying  he  took  the  valise  and 
said  to  Luth:  — 

"You  seem  a  sensible  man;  take  this  sealed 
valise  and  give  it  to  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann 
Weber;  he  is  to  do  with  it  what  is  right  according  to 
the  practice  of  the  country."  Luth  received  a  paper 
with  it,  and  thus  the  matter  was  settled. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  231 

But  now  there  arose  a  difficulty  which  no  one 
had  thought  of  before :  —  what  was  to  be  done  with 
my  uncle  Herse.  When  the  Miller  and  the  baker 
and  all  the  others  had  gone  out  of  the  court  and 
away  from  him,  my  uncle  remained  there,  like  a  fine 
old  oak  which  the  forester  has  left  in  a  clearing, 
alone  in  its  grandeur. 

The  Colonel  looked  at  him  and  asked:  "Why 
are  you  still  here?" 

My  uncle  Herse  stirred  his  branches  as  it  were, 
and  from  the  look  in  his  dusky -red  face,  it  was 
clear  that  a  storm  of  wind  was  beginning  to  agitate 
the  head  of  the  old  tree:  "That's  what  I  was  going 
to  ask  you,"  was  his  answer. 

If  a  stranger  had  entered  the  room  at  that  mo- 
ment, he  would  hardly  have  been  able  to  say  which 
was  the  Kathsherr  and  which  the  colonel.  Both  had 
imposing  uniforms  on,  both  had  proud  aristocratic 
faces,  and  both  had  these  from  the  habit  of  com- 
mand*, if  the  Colonel  was  a  couple  of  inches  taller, 
my  uncle  Herse  was  half  a  foot  broader*,  and  if  the 
Colonel  had  hair  on  his  upper  lip,  my  uncle  had  it 
all  over  his  face,  for  he  had  not  been  shaved  for  the 
last  two  days:  old  Metz  the  barber  had  forgotten  to 
shave  him  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  the  day 
before  yesterday's,   yesterday's  and  to-day's  growth, 


232  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

weighed  fully  as  mucli  as  the  French  officer's 
moustache. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"I  am  a  Rathsherr,  a  Stemhagen  Rathsherr,"  re- 
plied my  uncle. 

This  seemed  to  take  the  Colonel  by  surprise.  He 
walked  up  and  down  and  at  last  stood  still  before 
my  uncle  and  said:  "I  do  not  see  any  advantage  for 
the  Emperor  Napoleon  in  my  dragging  you  about  the 
country  any  longer.     You  can  go." 

Now  this  was  not  the  sort  of  thing  my  uncle  was 
used  to.  —  "Sir!"  he  cried:  "this  treatment " 

"T  am  truly  sorry,"  interrupted  the  Colonel, 
"that  you  should  have  been  put  to  such  inconvenience. 
You  must  have  been  taken  up  entirely  by  mistake." 

This  was  a  little  too  strong  for  my  uncle.  All 
along  the  road  and  through  the  wintry  night,  he  had 
comforted  himself  with  the  reflection  that  he  was  the 
chosen  victim  of  the  "Corsican  dragon,"  and  now  it 
was  all  said  to  be  a  pure  mistake.  He  had,  in  his 
innocence,  reckoned  at  the  very  least  on  a  public 
apology  before  a  whole  French  regiment,  and  here 
was  he  being,  as  it  were,  kicked  out  and  told  —  "he 
might  go!" 

"To  take  up  a  man  like  me  by  mistake!" 
cried  he. 

"You  may   think    yourself  fortunate,"   said   the 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  233 

Colonel,  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder  and  smiling 
pleasantly;  "worse  things  than  that  often  happen  in 
war;  many  a  one  gets  shot  by  mistake.  Look  upon 
this  as  a  trial  sent  by  God." 

"If  this  is  to  be  called  a  trial,"  said  my  uncle, 
"it's  a  very  stupid  one." 

The  Colonel  laughed  and  passed  his  arm  under 
the  Kathsherr's:  "Come  with  me,  Herr  Rathsherr.  I 
am  right  glad  the  matter  has  ended  thus  and  that 
I  have  been  able  to  do  what  the  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann  asked.  And  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  you 
in  secret." 

'In  secret,'  those  were  two  words  that  my  uncle 
Herse  could  not  resist,  so  he  went  with  him. 

"Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  the  Colonel,  when  they 
were  out  in  the  market-place,  and  stood  before  the 
door  of  the  "Golden  Button,"  which  was  the  Colonel's 
head  quarters;  "Herr  Rathsherr,  tell  the  good  old 
Herr  Amtshauptmann,  with  my  kindest  regards,  that 
I  have  fortunately  been  able  to  comply  with  his  re- 
quest; and  beg  him  in  return  to  comply  with  mine,  — 
which  is  that,  if  it  can  be  done  with  justice,  he  should 
give  the  money  that  finds  no  owner  to  the  young  girl 
who  brought  me  his  letter  yesterday  on  the  road, 
here.  And  you  will  yourself  see,  Herr  Rathsherr, 
that  this  must  be  kept  secret,  as  else  the  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann might  be  suspected." 


234  IN   THE   YEAR  '13. 

My  uncle  Herse  was  now,  once  more,  in  his  ele- 
ment — :  "You  mean  Fieka?"  he  asked  eagerly; 
"Miller  Voss's  Fieka  who  is  standing  out  there?" 
and  he  j)ointed  to  Fieka,  who  was  standing  a  little 
way  off  with  her  father,  —  her  arm  round  his  neck 
and  crying  for  joy. 

"Yes,  I  mean  her,"  said  the  Colonel  and  he  went 
up  to  the  two. 

Fieka  drew  her  arm  from  round  her  father's 
neck,  but  she  could  not  prevent  the  tears  from  flow- 
ing, and  as  the  Colonel  came  nearer,  she  felt  as  if 
she  must  cry  all  the  more;  when  he  gave  her  his 
hand  she  curtseyed  silently,  for  she  could  not  bring 
out  a  word.  As  long  as  anxiety,  like  a  dark  night, 
had  lain  upon  her,  she  had  gone  steadily  on  her  way 
without  looking  either  to  right  or  left,  —  trust  in 
God  her  sole  guiding-star;  but  now  that  the  sun  had 
risen,  she  stood  still ;  her  heart  opened  like  a  beautiful 
rose  to  the  light;  as  the  fresh  morning's  breeze  plays 
in  its  leaves,  so  her  thoughts  could  now  wander 
hither  and  thither,  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  be- 
hind her  and  before  her,  and  her  tears  fell  like  the 
morning  dew. 

The  old  Miller,  too,  stood  silent  before  the  Colonel ; 
but  when  he  was  asked  if  he  was  the  father  of  the 
young  girl,  the  words  came  out  in  a  torrent. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  he.     "And  though  it's  true  what 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  235 

our  Herr  Amtshauptmann  says,  that  boys  are  better 
than  girls,  girls  are  always  crying  —  for  they  are 
that,  sir,  as  you  can  see  in  Fieka"  —  and,  as  he 
spoke,  he  wiped  the  tears  from  his  own  eyes  —  "still 
I  don't  know  what  better  I  can  wish  you,  for  your 
goodness  to  us,  than  that  God  may  some  day  send 
you  a  little  daughter  like  my  Fieka." 

The  Colonel  no  doubt  thought  so  too,  though  he 
did  not  say  so.  He  turned  quickly  towards  Fieka, 
and  asked:  "Can  you  write?" 

"Yes,  Herr,"  said  Fieka,  and  made  a  curtsey. 

"She  can  do  everything,"  said  the  Miller;  "She 
can  write  and  read  writing  like  a  schoolmaster,  for 
she  has  to  do  all  my  writing." 

"Well,  then,  my  little  one,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"write  your  name  and  the  place  where  you  were  born, 
in  here*,  but  in  Platt-deutsch,  mind." 

And  Fieka  wrote  in  the  Colonel's  pocket-book, 
"Fieka  Voss,  born  at  the  Gielow  Mill  in  the  parish 
of  Stemhagen."  The  Colonel  read  it,  shut  up  his 
pocket-book,  gave  her  and  her  father  his  hand,  and 
went  away  with  the  words:  "Good-bye!  We  may  per- 
haps meet  again  some  day." 


236  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

How  Witte's  pint-pot  was  always  running  over ;  why  the  Town  of  Stem- 
hagen  had  raised  a  fir-plantation;  why  neighbour  Kickert  rang  the 
alarm-bell;  and  why  the  portrait  of  Julius  Caesar  always  reminds  me 
of  my  uncle  Herse. 


Rather  less  than  half  an  hour  afterwards,  two 
waggons  drove  out  of  the  Treptow  Gate  of  Bran- 
denburg towards  Stemhagen.  In  the  first  were  the 
elders,  the  Herr  Rathsherr  and  the  baker  and  the 
Miller,  and,  as  a  mark  of  respect,  the  valet-de-chambre  *, 
in  the  second  sat,  on  the  foremost  sack,  Fritz  Besser- 
dich  and  Luth,  and  on  the  hind  sack,  Fieka  and 
Heinrich.  Friedrich  lay  behind  in  the  straw.  After 
they  had  gone  along  some  way,  my  uncle  Herse 
began  to  talk: 

"So  we  are  out  of  his  claws  at  last,"  said  he. 

"Yes,  Herr  Rathsherr,"  answered  the  Baker,  "and 
we  have  to  thank  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  and 
our  Burmeister  and,  above  all,  the  Miller's  Friedrich 
for  it." 

"That's  according  as  you  look  at  it,  Witte,"  said 
my  uncle.  "For  my  part  I  have  nothing  to  say 
against  those  three,  and  there  is  no  doubt  the  Chas- 


IN   THE   YEAR  '13.  237 

seur's  being  brought  there  did  us  good  service,  but 
it  by  no  means  set  us  free.  Did  you  not  notice  how 
the  French  Colonel  talked  to  me  aside  before  the 
door  of  the  Inn?" 

*'Yes,  Herr  Rathsherr." 

"Well,  then,  let  me  tell  you,  that,  if  he  had  not 
employed  me  to  take  a  secret  message  for  him,  we 
might  have  left  Brandenburg  by  a  very  different  gate 
from  this." 

"The  Devil  we  might!"  cried  the  old  Baker,  and 
he  looked  at  the  Rathsherr  out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye. 

My  uncle  said  nothing;  he  only  opened  and  shut 
his  eyes  importantly,  and  then  turned  away,  and 
looked  over  the  cornfields,  as  if  he  meant  to  let  his 
words  have  due  effect  on  the  Baker.  But  this  did 
not  succeed.  Old  Baker  Witte's  head  was  like  the 
pint  measure  in  which  he  sold  milk;  when  it  was 
full  to  the  brim,  it  would  hold  no  more,  and  what- 
ever more  was  poured  in,  ran  over  into  the  room. 
And,  just  now,  his  head  was  brimming  full  of  all  he 
had  gone  through,  so  that  the  Rathsherr's  words  made 
it  run  over,  and  he  said  nothing. 

"I  wish  I  was  in  Stemhagen,"  said  the  Raths- 
herr,  after  a  while. 

These  drops  went  into  the  baker's  pint  measure, 


238  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

'he  said,  therefore :  "  So  do  I,  for  it  will  be  a  precious 
long  time  before  we  get  there." 

"I  don't  mean  that,"  said  the  Herr  Rathsherr. 
"I  mean  as  to  our  reception." 

The  baker's  pint  measure  was  running  over  again : 
"What?"  he  asked. 

*'Our  reception  with  a  triumphal  arch." 

The  contents  of  the  pint  measure  were  now  run- 
ning over  very  fast:  —  "Reception!  Triumphal  arch! 
What?     Is  our  Duke  coming  then?" 

"No,  Witte,  he  is  not  coming,  but  we  are  coming." 

It  was  now  just  as  if  some  one  had  given  Witte's 
arm  a  jerk,  while  he  was  pouring  the  milk  into  the 
measure,  so  that  half  of  it  went  on  to  the  floor.  This 
was  lucky,  for  now  there  was  room  for  the  Herr 
Rathsherr' s  explanation. 

"I  say,  Witte,  that  we  are  coming.  Ought  not 
the  burghers  of  a  town  like  ours  to  erect  a  triumphal 
arch  for  their  fellow-burghers  and  officers  of  state, 
who  have  suffered  for  the  Fatherland,  just  as  much 
as  for  a  Duke?  —  But  who  is  to  do  it?  The  old 
Amtshauptmann?  The  Burmeister?  They  won't  be 
thinking  of  such  a  thing.  Or  do  you  think  the  old 
Rector,  because  he  once  made  a  thing  of  a  Hrans- 
parencyf  That  was  a  fine  thing!  —  Or  old  Metz? 
There's  as  much  sense  in  his  talk,  baker  Witte,  as 
in  a  squirrel's  tail.  —  Or  old  Zoch?     He  can  blow 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  239 

his  horn  on  the  watch  tower,  nothing  else.  —  Ah!  if 
I  were  there!" 

"But,  at  this  time  of  year,  Herr  Eathsherr,"  said 
the  Baker,  "where  could  you  get  flowers  and  ever- 
greens from?" 

"Flowers?  What  do  old  Heimann  Kasper,  and 
Leip,  and  the  other  Jews,  sell  red  and  yellow  ribbons 
for?  Evergreens!  For  what  purpose  has  the  town  of 
Stemhagen  raised  a  fir  plantation  in  the  State 
Forest?" 

"That's  true,"  said  old  Witte,  for  the  pint  measure 
was  now  full  again. 

"What  do  you  say.  Miller  Voss?"  asked  the 
Herr  Rathsherr. 

"I  say  nothing,  Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  the  Miller, 
turning  towards  him  a  face  so  full  of  wrinkles  that 
it  looked  like  a  puckered  tobacco-pouch  rising  above 
his  shoulder,  "I  say  nothing-,  I  only  think:  yester- 
day when  I  was  driving  towards  Brandenburg  I 
didn't  feel  exactly  comfortable,  and  now  to-day,  when 
I  am  driving  away  from  it,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  got  a 
stomach-ache  in  my  head." 

"How's  that?"  asked  my  uncle  Herse;  and  the 
Miller  told  him  his  difficulties  with  Itzig.  —  "Hm!" 
said  my  uncle,  and  he  passed  his  hand  slowly  down 
his  face  as  far  as  his  chin  where  it  remained  fast 
caught  in  the  stubbly  beard.     With  his  chin  in  his 


240  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

hand  and  his  mouth  wide  open,  he  gazed  fixedly  for 
a  while  into  vacancy.  He  tried  the  same  thing  over 
again  once  or  twice,  but  his  hand  never  got  over  his 
beard.  Now,  though  my  uncle  Herse  had  a  bristly 
beard,  he  had  a  tender  soul;  and  if  his  mouth 
opened  wide,  his  heart  opened  wider  still;  and,  as 
he  was  taking  a  last  look  into  the  grey  sky,  his 
eyes  fell  on  a  blue  place,  and  a  ray  from  the  blue 
sky  passed  through  his  eyes  into  his  open  heart. 
He  must  do  a  good  work. 

"Baker  Witte,"  said  he,  ''let  the  Miller  come 
and  sit  here,  and  you  take  his  place  on  the  front 
seat,  —  I  have  something  to  say  to  him." 

This  was  done,  and  Baker  Witte  talked  on  the 
front  seat  to  the  valet-de-chambre  in  a  very  loud 
voice,  and  the  Herr  Rathsherr  talked  on  the  hind 
seat  with  the  Miller  in  a  very  low  one. 

"Miller  Voss,"  said  my  uncle,  "I  will  help  you 
out  of  the  bog.  I  will  send  for  Itzig  to-morrow  — 
and  then  observe  how  servile  he  will  be,  for  I  know 
something  about  him,  —  a  secret!  —  that  does  not 
concern  anybody  else;  —  but  it's  nothing  very  good 
you  may  be  sure.  —  The  fellow  shall  give  you  time 
till  Easter,  and  I  will  be  surety  for  you;  and  I'll 
come  out  to-morrow,  and  look  through  all  your 
papers  and  take  the  matter  into  my  own  hands.  For, 
look  here,"  and  as  he  spoke  he  drew  out  the  seal  at 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  241 

tlic  end  of  his  watch-chain,  "I  am  appointed  to  do 
such  things.  Here  it  stands.  Perhaps  you  can't 
easily  read  Latin  backwards?"  The  Miller  said  he 
could  not  read  it  either  backwards  or  forwards.  — 
"Well,  it  does  not  matter.  Here  it  stands:  Not.  Pub. 
Im.  Cas.y  that's  to  say,  I'm  Notarius  Publicus,  and 
Im,  Cces.  means  —  I  can  be  consulted  in  every 
lawsuit.  So,  Miller,  I'll  help  you.  —  But  upon  one 
condition  only:  that  you  tell  no  one  of  my  being 
surety  for  you,  or  of  our  agreement,  —  above  all 
not  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann.  The  affair  must 
remain  a  profound  secret." 

The  Miller  promised. 

In  one  way  things  were  going  on  in  the  second 
waggon  in  the  same  manner  as  in  the  first.  On  the 
front  sack  the  voices  were  very  loud,  and  on  the 
hind  sack,  on  which  Heinrich  and  Fieka  were  sitting, 
they  were  very  low.  I  need  not  tell  what  they 
were  saying  to  each  other,  for  Friedrich,  you  know, 
was  lying  close  behind  them  in  the  straw,  and 
heard  every  word  they  said,  and  he  will  come  out 
with  it  in  good  time. 

About  three  hours  after  this,  that  young  rascal 
Fritz  Sahlmann  was  running  through  the  streets  of 
the  good  town  of  Stemhagen,  shouting  —  "They 
are  coming!  They  are  coming!"  —  He  had  been 
watching  for  a  couple  of  hours  on  the  Windmill-hill, 

Jn  the  Year  '13,  IG 


242  Cr  THE  TEAK  '13. 

and,  during  that  time,  the  Heir  Amtshauptmann  had 
rang  his  bell  seven  times  for  him,  and  had,  at  last, 
come  down  to  my  mother  ont  of  sheer  vexation, 

"They  are  coming!"  cried  the  young  wretch. 

"Is  it  true,  boy?"  asked  old  Rickert  the  bell- 
ringer. 

"Yes,  neighbour  Rickert,  they  are  just  at  the 
bridge.^ 

And  old  Rickert  said  to  himself:  "It  can't  be 
helped:  I  must  do  my  duty;"  went  to  the  bell- 
tower,  and  as  he  could  not  manage  the  whole  peal, 
rang  the  alarm  belL  At  that  sound  all  were  on 
foot,  and  at  their  house-doors.    "They  are  coming!" 

—  "Who  is  coming?"  —  "The  Rathsherr,  and 
baker  Witte,  and  the  Miller,  and  all  the  others." 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  Shoemaker  Bank  waving  his 
arm  in  the  air,  —  forgetting  he  had  got  a  boot 
on  iL 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Locksmith  Tropner,  rushing 
into  the  street  with  his  leathern  apron  on.  "But  let 
us  have  everything  quiet  and  orderly,  good  people" 

—  and  he  knocked  the  jug  out  of  Fran  StahFs  hand, 
which  she  was  carrying  down  from  the  Schloss. 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Herr  l5roi,  running  out  into 
the  street  with  his  bearskin  on,  but  otherwise  in 
plain  clothes;  and  behind  him  trooped  his  little 
French  children  and  shouted  "Vive  FEmpereur!"  as 


IN  THE  YEAR  *13.  243 

the  Rathslierr  passed  through  the  crowd  in  the  first 
waggon. 

He  sat  bolt  upright  on  his  sack,  and  held  his 
hand  to  his  hat  all  along  the  street,  and  turned  his 
dignified  face  to  right  and  left;  and  with  his  dignity 
was  mixed  some  emotion,  as  he  whispered  to  the 
Miller:  *^Voss,  this  makes  me  forget  the  triumphal 
arch;' 

"Yes,  and  me  Itzig,"  said  the  old  Miller,  who, 
on  seeing  what  the  Rathsherr  did,  began  to  do  the 
same.  The  valet-de-chambre  kept  on  bowing  away 
at  his  side  of  the  waggon,  treating  his  hat  most 
cruelly  and  from  the  other  side  old  Witto  kept  up 
a  fire  of:  *'Good  day  neighbour.  Good  day  Bank, 
how's  your  back.  Good  day  Johann.  Good  day 
Strtiwingken  —  Is  all  right?     How  are  the  pigs?'' 

When  they  came  to  the  market-place,  they  saw 
Aunt  Herse  waving  the  bottom  half  of  one  of  the 
white  curtains  out  at  the  window,  and  such  a  storm- 
wind  arose  in  my  uncle  Herse' s  heart  that  his  feel- 
ings rolled  in  great  waves  and  sent  thft  water  up  to 
his  eyes:  —  "Aunt,"  he  said  half  aloud  to  himself, 
"Aunt,"  —  for  he  always  called  his  wife  "Aunt" 
and  she  called  him  "Uncle"  in  return,  —  "Aunt,  I 
cannot  obey  your  signal,  for  both  these  last  days 
have  concerned  me  in  my  public,  and  not  in  my 
private  capacity  —  have  concerned  me  as  Kathsherr 

IG* 


244  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

and  not  as  Uncle,  and  tliey  must  end  in  the  same 
way  as  they  have  begun.  —  To  the  Rathhaus, 
baker  Witte!"  he  cried,  and  as  he  said  it,  he  pulled 
his  cocked  hat  down  over  his  eyes.  The  Rathsherr 
had  won  the  victory  over  the  "Uncle"  and  father  of 
a  family. 

0,  what  a  merry  evening  it  was  at  the  Rath- 
haus! Everything  in  kitchen  and  cellar  that  had 
been  hidden  away  from  the  French  was  brought 
out,  and  whatever  was  wanting  was  fetched  from 
the  Schloss.  Marie  Wienken  laid  the  cloth  on  a 
long,  long  table,  and  to  the  table  added  leaf  after 
leaf,  and,  when  there  were  no  more  leaves,  she 
joined  on  small  tables,  and  when  there  were  not 
enough  of  them,  the  chairs  were  spread  for  us  chil- 
dren. Mamsell  Westphalen  stood  at  the  corner- 
cupboard,  and  squeezed  lemons  on  to  sugar,  and 
poured  the  contents  of  all  sorts  of  bottles  over  it; 
and  the  kettles  went  backwards  and  forwards,  from 
the  kitchen  into  the  room,  and  from  the  room  into 
the  kitchen;  and  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  stood 
by,  and  kept  tasting  and  shaking  his  head,  and 
then  pouring  in  something  himself;  and  at  last  he 
nodded  and  said:  "Now  Mamsell  Westphalen  it's 
right;  this  is  quite  another  thing;"  and  he  turned 
round  to  my  mother,  and  said:  —  "You  must  let 
me  have  my  way  in  one  thing,   my  friend,   I  will 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  245 

make  the  punch."  My  father  managed  the  cork- 
screw, Luth  the  pouring  out,  and  the  valet-de- 
chambre  stood  by  the  stove,  and  shook  his  head  at 
all  these  arrangements;  and  he  showed  Luth  how 
he  ought  to  wait;  and,  as  Luth  tried  to  imitate  him, 
he  spilled  a  glass  of  punch  into  Mamsell  West- 
phalen's  lap.  —  Yes,  it  was  a  merry  evening! 

Friedrich  stood  at  the  door,  upright  as  a  grenadier, 
and  not  moving  or  stirring  a  limb  except  to  drink; 
Fritz  Besserdich  stood  at  his  side,  not  moving  or 
stirring  either,  except,  too,  when  he  drank.  And 
Fieka  Voss  sat  next  to  my  Mother,  and  my  Mother 
pressed  her  hand,  and  stroked  her  soft  cheek,  and 
when  I  came  up  to  lier  side,  she  stroked  mine  too 
and  said:  "Shall  you  love  me  as  much  as  Fieka 
loves  her  father?" 

The  Herr  Amtshauptmann  called  Heinrich  Voss 
into  a  corner,  and  talked  to  him  aside.  What  had 
the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  got  to  say  in  secret  to 
Heinrich  Voss,  and  why  did  he  keep  patting  him 
on  the  shoulder?  Old  Miller  Voss  asked  himself 
this,  and  when  he  had  made  out  that  it  must  be 
about  the  lawsuit,  he  said  to  Witte:  — 

"Well,  I  have  finished  with  the  lawsuit  now, 
the  Jew's  the  only  thing  remaining,  and  I'll  drown 
him  to-night  in  punch." 


246  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

"By  the  way  that  reminds  me  .  .  ."  said  the 
baker  going  out. 

After  a  time  he  came  back  again,  holding  a 
basket  in  one  hand  and  Struwingken  by  the  other: 
—  "By  your  leave,  Herr  Burmeister,  perhaps  I  may 
bring  something  towards  the  feast;  here  are  a  few 
sweet  cakes;  and  here,  Frau  Burmeister,  is  my 
daughter  Struwingken;  pardon  the  liberty,  but  she 
wished  so  much  to  see  the  company." 

But  what  was  all  this  to  the  splendour  and  pomp 
which  surrounded  my  uncle  Herse.  He  had  taken 
off  his  cloak,  and  now  stood  there  in  full  uniform; 
and  everyone  came  round  him,  and  thanked  him; 
my  father  because  he  had  taken  him  under  the 
shelter  of  his  cloak;  My  mother  because  he  had 
thereby  helped  my  father  to  escape;  Mamsell  West- 
phalen  curtseyed  three  times,  and  said  she  should 
never  forget  what  he  had  done  for  her;  and  Miller 
Voss  said  that,  strictly  speaking,  they  had  only  been 
set  free  at  Brandenburg  owing  to  the  Herr  Rathsherr; 
and  when  old  Witte  confirmed  this,  Struwingken 
secretly  promised  herself  that  she  would  send  the 
Rathsherr  an  immense  tea-cake.  His  fine,  full  face 
beamed  with  pleasure  and  delight,  and  he  bent 
down  to  my  Mother  and  said:  —  "I  can't  at  all 
make  out  why  'Aunt'  does  not  come." 

At  the  Miller's  words,  he  suddenly  recollected  the  ^ 


IN   TUB  YEAR  '13.  847 

French  Colonel's  message  and  turned  to  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann :  —  "I  have  two  words  to  say  to 
you,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  on  a  very  secret  matter," 
and  so  saying  he  drew  him  into  a  corner.  We  know 
what  it  is  he  is  going  to  say,  but  if  the  corner  could 
speak,  and  were  to  tell  us  what  the  Rathsherr  had 
said  there,  we  should  be  obliged  to  pretend  that  we 
had  known  nothing  about  it. 

My  father  was  obliged  at  length  to  free  the  old 
Amtshauptmann.  He  took  my  uncle  and  placed  him 
in  the  post  of  honour  at  the  head  of  the  table ,  and 
never  was  anyone  put  in  the  right  place  more  at  the 
right  time ;  for,  hardly  was  he  seated,  when  the  door 
opened  and  in  came  Aunt  Herse  in  a  black  silk 
dress,  and  behind  this  dress  stood  old  Metz  the 
father  of  the  present  old  Metz ,  and  the  present  rich 
Joseph  Kasper  who  was  then  a  little  Jew  boy.  Aunt 
Herse  had  a  wreath  of  green  laurel  in  her  hand 
picked  from  old  Metz's  laurel-tree,  from  which  he 
generally  picked  the  leaves  only  when  his  wife  cooked 
bream;  and  the  wreath  was  bound  with  a  long  red 
ribbon;  Joseph  Kasper  had  furnished  this,  and  so 
Aunt  Herse  had  brought  him  with  her.  She  went  up 
to  uncle  Herse,  gave  him  a  kiss,  placed  the  wreath 
on  his  head  with  the  ends  of  ribbon  hanging  down 
his  back,  and  made  a  pretty  little  speech  which  no- 
body heard,    for  baker  Witte  broke  out  the  same 


248  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

moment  with:  ^'Hurrah!''  and  the  Miller  with  "Long 
live!"  and  every  one  joined  in  and  clinked  glasses. 
Yes,  it  was  a  delightful  evening!  And  a  long 
time  afterwards,  when  I  saw  a  picture  of  Julius 
Caesar  it  put  me  in  mind  of  my  uncle  Herse,  for  he 
looked  exactly  like  it  in  his  laurel  wreath,  only  my 
uncle  was  a  good  deal  stouter  and  more  genial  than 
the  crabbed  dried-up  Roman.  And  a  long  time 
afterwards  whenever  I  had  specially  nice  cakes  be- 
fore me  I  thought  of  Baker  Witte's.  And  I  can 
still  praise  them;  for  you  may  eat  a  great  many, 
and  yet  not  be  made  ill. 


IN  THE  YEAR   'l3.  249 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Why  the  Miller  again  looked  into  the  tops  of  his  boots ;  how  a  pint  be 
came  a  bushel;  why  Heinrich  said  good-bye,  and  why  Friedrich 
considered  that  women  were  getting  cheap. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  Miller  had  got  out 
of  bed,  he  again  sat  resting  his  head  on  his  hands 
and  looking  thoughtfully  into  the  tops  of  his  boots. 

"Mother,"  asked  he  at  last,  "did  I  quarrel  with 
Heinrich  last  night,  or  did  I  dream  it?" 

"Why,  father,"  replied  his  wife,  "you  kept  em- 
bracing him  and  calling  him  your  dear  son,  and  you 
promised  Friedrich  he  should  have  plenty  of  money 
when  you  became  a  rich  man,  and  said  it  would  not 
be  so  very  long  either  before  that  time  came." 

"Then,  mother,  I  was  a  fool." 

"That's  what  I  told  you  last  night,  but  you 
would  not  believe  it." 

"Lord  save  me!"  cried  the  Miller*,  "there  is  no 
end  to  these  stupid  tricks  of  mine!" 

Friedrich  came  in.  —  "Good  morning.  Miller; 
good  morning.  Dame.  I  only  came  in  to  tell  you, 
Miller,  I  had  thought  over  the  matter.  I  will  let 
the  money  which  you  promised  me  yesterday  even- 


250  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

ing  stay  with  you  at  interest  for  some  time  longer, 
till  I  want  it." 

"Hm!"  said  the  old  Miller,  moving  uneasily  on 
his  chair. 

"Yes,"  said  Friedrich;  "but  there  was  another 
thing  I  wanted  to  ask  you:  will  you  let  me  leave  at 
Easter?    I  know  it's  rather  before  my  time." 

"Why?    What  do  you  want  to  do?" 

"I  want  to  get  married." 

"What?    You  marry?" 

"Yes,  Miller,  I  am  going  to  marry  Bailiff  Bes- 
serdich's  Hanchen,  who  is  now  in  service  at  the 
Schloss;  and  I  thought  if  Heinrich  Voss  marries  our 
Fieka,  and  our  fathers-in-law  have  nothing  against 
it,  we  could  be  married  on  the  same  day." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  Miller:  "You 
rascal  .  .  .  .!"  He  jumped  up  and  seized  one  of  his 
boots. 

"Stay,  Miller;"  said  Friedrich,  drawing  himself 
up,  "that  word's  neither  fit  for  you  nor  fit  for  me. 
How  things  stand  with  me,  I  have  known  for  three 
days,  and  how  they  stand  with  Heinrich  and  our 
Fieka  I  came  to  know  yesterday  afternoon;  I  was 
lying  behind  them  in  the  waggon  and  heard  every- 
thing they  said." 

"It  would  be  a  good  thing,  father,"  said  the 
Miller's  wife. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  251 

"You  don't  understand  anything  about  it,"  cried 
the  Miller,  and  strode  about  the  room  savagely. 

"Well,  Miller,"  said  Friedrich,  and  he  went  to 
the  door,  "think  the  matter  over*,  my  father-in-law 
has  been  going  about  thinking  of  it  ever  since  the 
day  before  yesterday." 

"I  will  give  you  your  character  at  once,"  cried 
the  Miller  after  him,  "but  you  are  not  to  leave  be- 
fore midsummer." 

Why  was  the  old  Miller  so  angry?  He  liked 
Heinrich  very  well;  he  had  himself  often  thought 
during  the  last  few  days,  that  Heinrich  and  Fieka 
might  do  for  one  another*,  and  he  had  called  him 
his  "dear  son"  only  last  night.  But  that  was  just 
it.  Last  night  the  punch  had  made  him  a  rich  man, 
and  this  morning  he  was  looking  into  the  tops  of  his 
boots  —  a  beggar*,  even  if  Itzig  would  be  put  off 
till  Easter,  it  would  be  but  a  short  reprieve. 

"Father,"  said  his  wife,  "this  is  the  best  thing 
that  could  happen  to  us  and  to  our  Fieka." 

"I  tell  you,  mother,"  cried  the  Miller,  and  it 
was  fortunate  he  had  not  got  his  boot  on  or  he  would 
have  stamped  on  the  floor  with  rage,  "I  tell  you, 
you  don't  understand  anything  about  it.  What?  I 
am  to  give  my  child  to  Joe  Voss's  son,  who  is  at 
law  with  me,  and  who  travels  about  the  country 
with  a  great  bag  of  money,  —  my  best,  my  dearest 


252  IN  THE  YEAH  '13. 

child  — '  and  I  am  to  say  to  him :  *  there  she  is,  but  I 
can  give  you  nothing  with  her  for  I  am  a  beggar?' 
No,  wife,  no!  Why,  I  should  have  to  borrow  the 
very  clothes  in  which  my  only  child,  —  my  little 
Fieka,  —  was  married.  —  No,  no!  I  must  get  right 
again  first." 

It  often  happens  so  in  the  world.  Some  piece  of 
good  fortune  hangs  close  before  our  eyes,  and  when 
we  stretch  out  our  hand  to  seize  it,  our  arm  is  held 
by  a  chain,  forged,  without  our  having  been  aware 
of  it,  in  times  long  past,  the  ends  of  which  are 
fastened  far  behind  us,  so  that  we  cannot  get  it  off. 
The  Miller's  chain  was  his  law-suit  and  his  bad 
management  in  former  years,  and  now  when  he 
tried  to  seize  the  good  fortune  which  seemed  within 
his  reach,  it  held  him  back-,  and  he  fretted  and 
fumed  in  vain.  He  might  perhaps  cut  the  chain  in 
two,  but  then  he  would  be  obliged  to  drag  about 
one  end  of  it  all  his  life  like  a  runaway  convict, 
and  his  honour  would  not  suffer  this.  One  cannot 
help  pitying  the  old  man.  He  avoided  everybody, 
and  worked  alone  in  the  mill  and  the  stable,  as  hard 
as  if  he  thought  he  could,  in  this  one  day,  make 
good  all  the  neglects  of  past  years. 

At  last  he  was  freed  from  his  toil.  My  uncle 
Herse  arrived,  —  but  in  the  dress  of  a  plain  burgher 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  253 

to-day;  "Good  day,  Voss;  well,  our  affairs  are  all 
right." 

But  the  Miller  was  not  to  be  so  easily  satisfied 
to-day,  and  he  said  shortly :  "  Yes,  for  whoever  thinks 
so,  Herr  Rathsherr." 

"When  I  say  it,  Miller  Voss,"  said  the  Herr 
Rathsherr,  as  he  fetched  a  packet  of  papers  from  his 
carriage,  and  went  with  the  Miller  into  his  room, 
"when  I  say  it,  you  may  believe  it,  for  I  am  here 
to-day  as  a  Notary  Public." 

"Mother,"  said  the  Miller,  "leave  us  by  our- 
selves; but  give  us  a  light  first,  Pieka." 

Now,  there  was  no  exact  necessity  for  this, 
seeing,  that  it  was  broad  daylight;  but  the  Miller 
had  noticed  that,  when  a  court  of  justice  was  being 
held,  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  always  had  a  wax- 
light  burning  by  him,  and  so  he  determined  to  have 
a  light,  thinking  it  was  safer,  because  it  made  every- 
thing more  complete.  And  he  went  to  his  cupboard 
and  fetched  out  a  pair  of  spectacles  and  put  them 
on,  which  was  also  unnecessary,  for  he  could  not 
read  writing;  but  he  thought  he  should  be  able  to 
pay  better  attention  in  spectacles.  Finally,  he  drew 
a  table  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  brought 
forward  a  couple  of  chairs. 

When  they  were  alone  and  seated  before  the 
table  and  the  light,   the  Herr  Rathsherr  read  aloud, 


254  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

in  a  clear  voice,  a  paper  in  which  the  Jew  promised 
to  wait  till  Easter,  the  Herr  Kathsherr  being  bail 
for  the  Miller.  And,  when  he  had  read  it,  he  laid 
the  paper  by  his  side  and  looked  at  the  Miller  with 
a  face  which  seemed  to  say,  "What  do  you  think  of 
that?'' 

The  Miller  hummed  and  hawed,  and  scratched 
his  head. 

"Miller  Voss,"  said  my  uncle  angrily  "what  do 
you  mean  with  your  'hms'  and  *  haws'?  There  is 
my  seal  underneath.  Do  you  see,  it's  a  stalk  of 
hirse^  because  my  name  is  'Herse'5  I  could  also  have 
a  portcullis  on  it,  if  I  liked,  because  in  French 
that's  'herse^  —  but  I  am  not  fond  of  the  French. 
And  here,  round  it,  is  my  authority:  *Not:Pub:Im: 
Cses.',  and  here  is  the  Jew's  signature  *Itzig',  and 
what  is  written  is  written." 

"That's  what  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  says," 
said  the  Miller  and  he  looked  a  great  deal  more 
cheerful,  "what's  wi-itten  is  written." 

"It's  of  no  consequence  to  me  what  he  says.  It 
is  I,  Miller  Voss,  /,  who  am,  through  my  office 
appointed  to  make  written  writing  fast  and  secure 
by  my  seal.  And  this  paper  frees  you  from  all  dif- 
ficulties till  Easter." 

"Yes,  Herr  Rathsherr,  and  I  thank  you  for  it;  — 
but  then?" 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  255 

It  was  now  my  uncle's  turn  to  hum  and  haw: 
"Hm,  what  then?  —  Well  —  Yes  —  Well,  Miller;' 
and  his  good  old  face  threw  its  official  look  out  of 
window  and  put  on  human  kindness  for  spectacles, 
and  looked  benevolently  at  the  Miller  and  the  whole 
world:  "Well,  Miller  Voss,  I  have  procured  you 
breathing- time  till  Easter,  and,  maybe,  I  can  give 
you  further  help;  I  have  come  on  purpose  to  set 
matters  right.  But,  in  order  for  me  to  do  so,  you 
must  tell  me  exactly  how  you  stand,  and  show  me  all 
your  papers." 

So  the  Miller  told  and  told,  and  went  on  till 
any  other  head  than  my  uncle  Herse's  would  have 
been  quite  lost  in  the  maze*,  and  he  brought  out 
so  many  papers  that  anyone  else  would  have 
been  alarmed-,  but  my  uncle  was  very  thorough  in 
business  matters  and  was  fond  of  solving  riddles 
and  mysteries.  He  listened  to,  and  read,  everything 
with  patience,  though  not  with  much  profit  to  his 
undertaking. 

"Is  this  all.  Miller  Voss?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Miller,  and  he  looked  as  down 
as  a  potatoe-field  when  the  night  frost  has  gone  over 
it*,  "and  this  is  my  contract  with  the  bailiwick  of 
Stemhagen." 

My  uncle  took  the  contract,  and  read  it  through, 
looking,   in  his   turn,   like  a  parsnip -field  that  has 


256  IN  Till]  YEAR  '13. 

been  cut  up  by  the  hail.  But,  all  at  once  he  jumped 
up;  —  "Why,  what  is  this?  Miller,  your  difficulties 
are  at  an  end.  In  a  couple  of  years  you  will  be  a 
millionaire.  The  whole  town  and  bailiwick  of  Stem- 
hagen  is  bound  to  have  its  corn  ground  at  your 
mill;  here  it  is  in  paragraph  four.  And  what  says 
paragraph  five?  ^For  every  bushel  that  the  Miller 
grinds  he  has  a  right  to  take  one  bushel  as  pay- 
ment.'" 

"A  pint,  Herr  Eathsherr,"  cried  the  Miller;  and 
he,  too,  jumped  up  now.  "For  every  bushel  one 
pint." 

"No,  a  bushel.  Here  it  is:  for  every  bushel  one 
bushel  as  payment;  and  what  is  written  is  written, 
and  here  is  the  Amtshauptmann's  seal." 

"Herr  Kathsherr,  my  head  is  swimming.  Herr, 
that  is  only  a  mistake." 

"Mistake  or  no  mistake,  what  is  written  is 
written;  the  old  Amtshauptmann  said  so  himself." 

"That  he  did,"  said  the  Miller;  "yes,  that  he 
did,  I  can  swear  to  it." 

And  now  the  Miller  saw  before  him  a  prospect 
of  deliverance  from  the  Jew's  clutches,  and  of  many, 
many  bushels  of  corn  and  of  many,  many  bright 
thalers;  for  was  not  the  whole  bailiwick  obliged  to 
bring  corn  to  his  mill? 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  257 

"This  is  a  good  thing,  Herr  Rathsherr,"  he  cried; 
"but but " 

"What  do  you  mean  with  your  buts,  Voss?'' 
cried  my  uncle  indignantly.  "  The  thing  is  plain 
and  clear." 

"Yes,  Herr  Rathsherr,  I  only  mean,  what  is  to 
be  done  with  the  sacks?" 

"With  the  sacks?  —  What  sacks?" 

"Why,  the  sacks  in  which  the  corn  is  brought 
to  me.  ;I  get  all  the  com,  but  who  gets  the  sacks?" 

"Hm,"  said  my  uncle,  "that's  a  difficult  question 
in  law.  Miller.  I  did  not  think  of  it,  and  there's 
nothing  about  it  in  the  contract,  but,  if  you'll  follow 
my  advice,  you'll  keep  them  your&'elf  for  the  present, 
for  what  says  the  Lubeck  law:  ^heati  'possidentes^ 
that  is  in  German,  'what  a  man  has,  that  he's  got.' 
Now,  Miller,  I  have  helped  you  out  of  everything. 
But  one  thing  I  insist  upon:  silence!  —  Not  a  soul 
must  be  spoken  to  about  this  matter.  Do  you  hear? 
—  not  a  soul.  I  will  speak  to  Itzig.  He  must 
take  corn,  instead  of  money,  and  by  Easter  the  debt 
will  all  be  cleared  off,  and  then.  Miller  Voss " 

"And  then,  Herr  Rathsherr?  .  .  .  ." 

"Then  —  it  will  all  be  overplus  —  But,  Miller, 
the  affair  remains  a  secret." 

The  Miller  promised,  and  the  Herr  Rathsherr  set 
off  home  again,   and  Heinrich  and  Fieka  saw   him 

In  the  Year  '15,  17 


258  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

nod  from  his  carriage  to  the  Miller,  and  lay  his 
finger  on  his  lips. 

"Keeping  secrets  is  not  one  of  my  gifts,  Fieka," 
said  Heinrich:  "I  shall  go  to  your  father  and  speak 
to  him." 

"Do  so,'*  said  Fieka.  But  if  she  had  known  the 
state  the  Miller  was  in,  she  would  certainly  have 
told  him  to  wait. 

The  old  Miller  was  in  a  strange  mood.  That 
morning  he  had  been  a  beggar,  and  had  been  un- 
willing to  give  his  child  away,  because  he  had  no 
dower  for  her.  Now  he  was  a  rich  man,  and  his 
only  daughter  had  no  need  to  take  the  first  who 
came;  she  might  become  a  fine  lady  as  well  as  any- 
body else.  The  change  had  come  too  quickly,  he 
did  not  rightly  know  what  had  happened  to  him; 
and  there  now  arose,  too',  a  secret  fear  in  him,  lest 
all  might  not  be  as  it  ought  to  be,  and  great  anxiety 
lest  what  he  was  going  to  do  might  not  be  right. 
"But,"  said  he  to  himself,  "the  Amtshauptmann 
himself  said  Vhat  is  written  is  written;'  and  the 
Rathsherr  must  know  better  than  me  what  is  right." 
—  If  it  was  difficult  for  him,  in  ordinary  times,  to 
come  to  a  decision,  it  was  quite  impossible  at  a  mo- 
ment like  this. 

When  Heinrich  made  his  ofPer  therefore,  the 
Miller  began  to   talk  about  the  lawsuit,    and  said 


IN   THE   YEAR  '13.  259 

Heinricli  was  not  at  all  to  suppose  that  he  was  a 
ruined  man.  Many  had  tried  to  drown  him,  but  he 
still  swam  at  the  top. 

Heinrich  then  said  that  he  had  no  evil  intentions, 
that  he  had  thought  to  himself  that  the  Miller  would 
give  him  his  Fieka,  and  would  sell  him  his  lease, 
and  that  his  father  and  mother-in-law  might  live 
with  him  in  peace  and  quietness  for  the  rest  of  their 
lives. 

But  at  this  the  old  Miller  fired  up :  yes,  Heinrich 
would  like  that;  he  could  readily  believe  it.  But 
nobody  should  cry  ''Fish"  before  they  had  caught 
any;  he  was  not  going  to  let  himself  be  taken  in 
by  anyone,  let  alone  a  young  man  like  Heinrich. 
His  lease,  indeed!  His  lease!  he  would  keep  it  him- 
self, though  a  king  should  come  and  court  his 
Fieka! 

For  such  a  speech  Heinrich  was  not  at  all  pre- 
pared after  what  had  already  passed.  The  blood 
mounted  into  his  face  also,  and  he  said  sharply, 
that  the  Miller  must  say  "yes"  or  "no,"  would  he 
give  him  his  daughter  or  not. 

The  Miller  turned  round  abruptly  and  looked  out 
of  window,  and  said  "No." 

Heinrich  also  turned  round,  and  went  out  of  the 
room,  and  half  an  hour  afterwards  Friedrich  drove 
into  the  yard  with  Heinrich's  waggon;   and,   at  his 

17* 


260  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

call,  Heinrich  and  Fieka  came  out  of  the  garden. 
Fieka  looked  very  pale  but  also  quite  firm,  and 
said:  "Heinrich,  what  I  have  said  I  will  keep  to, 
and  you  too  will  keep  to  it."  —  He  nodded  his 
head,  and  pressed  her  hand,  stepped  up  to  the  Mil- 
ler's wife  who  was  standing  at  the  door,  said  a  few 
parting  words  to  her,  got  into  the  waggon,  and  drove 
slowly  away. 

When  he  was  some  little  distance  from  the  Mill, 
he  heard  some  one  calling  after  him ,  and  on  turning 
round  to  look,  he  saw  Friedrich  coming  towards  him 
across  the  corner  of  a  rye-field:  "Where  are  you 
driving  to,  Heinrich?" 

"To  Stemhagen." 

"Shall  you  stop  the  night  there?" 

"Yes,  I  thought  I  would  stay  for  the  night  at 
Baker  Witte's ,  for  I  have  something  to  speak  to  the 
Herr  Amtshauptmann  about." 

"I  must  say,  that's  a  good  idea  of  yours,  Hein- 
rich ,  and  I  have  something  to  do  at  the  Schloss  this 
evening  too;  and,  maybe,  I  shall  have  something  to 
say  to  you,  so  don't  drive  off  from  Witte's  till  I 
come.  I  shall  not  be  there  till  late,  however,  when 
everything  is  quiet  here." 

Heinrich  promised  he  would  wait  for  him,  and 
drove,  on  again  towards  Stemhagen.  On  the  road 
he  met  Baker  Witte  who  was  driving  with  corn  to  the 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  261 

Mill  and  said:  —  "Well,  Heinrich,  put  up  at  my 
house,  I  shall  be  at  home  again  by  evening,  and 
then  we  can  have  a  bit  of  a  chat  together." 

Evening  had  long  since  set  in,  and  the  baker 
had  been  some  time  at  home,  but  Heinrich  was 
still  up  at  the  Schloss  with  the  old  Herr.  Friedrich, 
too,  had  arrived  and  had  gone  up  to  the  Schloss, 
and  oldWitte  said  to  Striiwingken,  "Something  has 
happened  at  the  Mill,  you'll  see.  I  don't  think  much 
of  the  Miller's  wife  sitting  crying,  for  her  tears  run 
easily,  but  I  don't  at  all  like  to  see  Fieka  going 
about  so  quiet  and  saying  nothing  to  all  the  fooleries 
and  scoldings  of  the  old  Miller;  and  he  has  got  one 
of  those  queer  fits  upon  him  this  morning  which  you 
can  make  nothing  of.  When  I  asked  him  how  soon 
I  should  come  for  the  flour,  he  said  he  must  first 
look  at  his  lease;  and  when  I  said  I  wanted  it 
next  week,  he  said  it  was  all  the  same  to  him,  he 
should  act  according  to  his  lease;  and  when  I  was 
driving  away,  he  called  out  after  me  that,  if  any- 
thing strange  should  happen  to  the  flour,  I  was  only 
to  go  to  Rathsherr  Herse ,  and  he  would  explain  the 
matter  to  me,  —  that  is  if  he  thought  proper." 

"Why  he  must  be  mad,"  said  Striiwingken. 

At  that  moment  Heinrich  came  in,  looking  calm 
and  indiflerent;  and  on  the  baker  beginning  to  talk 
about  the  flour,  and  of  the  queer  reception  he  had  met 


262  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

with,  Heinrich  abruptly  broke  in  with:  "Will  you 
do  me  a  favour,  Witte?'' 

"Why  not?"  said  the  baker. 

"Look  here,  many  people  come  to  your  place; 
and  you  have  room  in  your  stable.  I  want  to  sell 
my  horse  and  waggon,  will  you  help  me  with  it." 

"Why  not?"  said  Witte  again*,  "but,  Heinrich," 
added  he  after  a  while ,  and  you  could  almost  imagine 
you  saw  how  he  was  collecting  his  thoughts  together 
inside  his  brain,  and  weaving  them  into  a  long  chain 
so  as  to  spin  out  the  conversation.  "But,  Heinrich, 
there's  no  hurry  about  it.  —  Horses  —  horses  — 
you  see  they  are  cheap  now.  Why?  —  Well  — 
what  do  I  know?  —  Why,  because  no  one  feels  sure 
that  the  French  won't  take  them  out  of  the  stables 
overnight.  But,  you'll  see,  they'll  get  dear;  for,  you'll 
see  in  a  few  weeks  we  shall  all  be  marching  against 
the  French." 

"I  have  just  heard  the  same  from  a  man  who 
must  know  much  more  about  it  than  you  or  I.  But 
it's  just  for  that  reason  I  want  to  be  rid  of  them." 

"Yes,"  said  Friedrich,  who  had  come  into  the 
room  during  the  Miller's  speech;  "horses  will  get 
dear  and  women  cheap.  There  will  be  a  great  call  for 
horses  when  the  war  begins,  and  little  for  women; 
and  when  it's  over,  and  half  the  young  men  are 
killed,  there'll  be  still  less.     And  it's  going  to  begin. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  263 

Yesterday,  at  Brandenburg,  a  fellow  took  me  aside, 
who  looked  as  if  he  had  tried  the  blue  beans,* 
and  he  said  to  me  that  from  my  appearance  I 
must  have  carried  a  musket,  and,  if  I  liked,  he 
knew  of  a  place  for  me.  I  said  I  would  think 
about  it;  but  to-day  is  not  yesterday,  and  to- 
day I  don't  need  to  think  about  it.  I  deserted 
from  the  Prussians,  but  only  because  I  had  to  rock 
the  cradle  for  my  Captain's  children;  and  yesterday 
I  only  wanted  to  think  it  over,  because  I  expected 
I  should  soon  have  to  rock  children;  of  my  own. 
But  to-day  I  need  think  no  more;  I  shall  enlist 
against  the  French.  And,  Witte,  I  have  no  one  in 
the  world  to  look  after  my  things,  so  when  you  hear 
that  I  have  left  the  Mill,  will  you  see  about  my 
box?  And  now,  good-bye.  I  must  go  back  to  the 
Mill  this  evening.''     So  saying  he  departed. 

Heinrich  followed  him:  "Friedrich,  ,what  does 
this  mean?" 

"What  does  it  mean?"  said  Friedrich.  "I  will 
tell  you.  *What  the  one  looks  the  other  feels.'  The 
same  thing  has  happened  to  us  both,  only  yourFieka 
cries  and  my  Hanchen  laughs.  I  am  not  young 
enough  for  her.  Well,  it  doesn't  much  matter;  I 
was  not  too  old  for  that  fellow  at  Brandenburg,  but 
what  is  one  man's  owl  is  another's  nightingale." 

*  Been  under  fire.  —  Transl. 


264  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

"Don't  speak  so  loud,  Friedricla,"  said  Heinricli 
in  a  low  voice.  "You  are  going  to  turn  soldier  and 
so  am  I." 

"What!    You?" 

"Hush!  Yes,  I.  I  have  no  friends  or  relations 
far  and  wide,  and  stand  alone  in  the  world.  I  have 
spoken  to  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  and  he  has 
promised  to  keep  an  eye  on  my  property.  I  can 
let  my  Mill  at  Parchen  any  day,  and  I  am  going  to 
sell  my  horse  and  waggon." 

"Hurrah!"  cried Friedrich,  "your hand,  comrade! 
Dumouriez!  The  very  first  morning,  I  said  you  had 
the  making  of  a  soldier  in  you." 

"Yes,  that's  all  very  well,"  replied  Heinrich. 
"I  have  got  the  will,  but  how  about  carrying  it 
out?" 

"When  anyone  has  it  in  his  mind  to  do  some- 
thing wrong,  comrade,"  said  Friedrich,  "the  Devil 
is  always  at  hand  to  show  him  the  way.  And  the 
Almighty  will  not  do  less.  He  will  show  us  the 
right  way,  now,  for  this  is  for  our  country.  Look, 
—  /  can't,  I  must  stay  till  Easter  —  but  do  you 
drive  over  at  once  to  Brandenburg,  and  ask  at  the 
Inn,  where  we  were,  for  a  tall  man  with  a  grey 
moustache  and  a  scar  across  the  right  cheek,  you 
will  be  sure  to  find  him.  Present  yourself  to  him 
and  report  me  as  'Friedrich  Schult;'  say  that  I  have 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  265 

served,  but  you  need  not  say  that  I  deserted  once 
from  rocking  children.  And,  when  all  is  settled, 
let  me  know,  and  then  I'll  come." 

"So  let  it  be!"  cried  Heinrich.  "And,  Fried- 
rich,  greet  Fieka  from  me,  and  tell  her  she's  not  to 
be  surprised  at  what  I  may  do.  I  will  keep  to  what 
I  said." 

"I'll  give  your  message.  And  now,  good- 
night." 

"Good-night."  And  as  Heinrich  still  stood  there 
listening  to  Friedrich's  footsteps,  he  heard  round 
the  corner  "Dumouriez!    Accursed  patriots!" 


266  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

How  everything  went  head  over  heels  —  in  the  world ,  in  Stemhagen, 
and  in  the  Miller's  house ;  why  the  Miller  and  Friedrich  drove  to 
Stemhagen ;  and  why  Fieka  followed  them. 

The  Frencli  came  no  more  into  our  part  of  the 
country;  but,  all  the  same,  it  did  not  get  any  quieter. 
The  Landsturm  (levy  en  masse)  was  called  out;  the 
Herr  Amtshauptmann  commanded  in  chief,  and,  under 
him.  Captain  Grischow;  but  their  men  had  only 
pikes,  —  except  the  Schoolmaster  who  had  had  a 
halbert  made  for  himself  by  the  locksmith,  Tropner. 
My  uncle  Herse  raised  a  corps  of  sharpshooters  of 
one-and-twenty  fowling  pieces,  and  the  young  pea- 
sants sat  on  horseback  with  their  long  swords  at 
their  sides. 

It  is  a  thing  to  laugh  at,  say  the  would-be  wise. 
I  say,  it  is  a  thing  to  weep  at  that  such  a  time 
comes  so  seldom  in  Germany,  and  that  such  a  time 
should  have  had  no  other  result  than  that  which  the 
last  forty  years  have  to  show. 

A  single  French  regiment  would  have  driven  the 
whole    pack    like   chaff  before    the  wind,    say    the 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  267 

would-be  wise.  It  may  be  so,  say  I,  but  tbey  would 
not  have  driven  away  the  spirit*,  one  may  laugh  at 
the  individual  signs;  no  one  then,  not  even  Buona- 
parte himself,  laughed  at  the  whole.  On  one  and 
the  same  day  the  cry  went  through  the  whole  of 
Lower  Germany  from  the  Vistula  to  the  Elbe,  from 
the  Baltic  to  Berlin  "The  French  are  coming!" 
They  say  now  that  this  cry  was  raised  on  purpose 
to  see  what  Lower  Germany  would  do.  If  that  is 
true,  then  they  had  their  wish:  Lower  Germany 
stood  the  test.  Everywhere,  far  and  wide,  the  alarm- 
bell  sounded,  not  a  village  remained  at  home;  every- 
where there  was  marching  hither  and  thither,  and 
the  "single  French  regiment"  must  have  had  long 
legs  to  crush  the  movement  in  all  places  at  once. 

The  Stemhagen  folk  marched  on  Ankershagen; 
the  French  were  said  to  be  in  Ankershagen.  The 
Malchin  folk  marched  on  Stemhagen;  the  French 
were  said  to  be  in  Stemhagen.  Yes,  it  was  a  queer 
medley.  In  the  market-place  at  Stemhagen  the  pike- 
men  were  divided  into  companies;  Droz  and  the 
Miller's  Friedrich  were  to  manage  them  because  they 
were  the  only  ones  who  understood  anything  about 
war;  but  the  burghers  would  not  obey  their  com- 
mands, because  the  one  was  a  Frenchman  and  the 
other  a  Miller's  man.  Nobody  would  stand  in  the  rear 
rank.  Deichert,  the  shoemaker,  objected  because  Bank 


268  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

Stood  in  the  front;  Groth,  the  taxgatherer,  because 
Stahl  the  weaver,  who  was  in  the  front,  always  sent 
the  reverse  end  of  the  pike  into  his  ribs  in  levelling 
bayonets,  and  he  could  not  put  up  with  it. 

My  uncle  Herse  di'illed  his  one-and-twenty  fowl- 
ing pieces  in  the  horse-pound,  always  making  them 
fire  off  all  together.  His  chief  command  was  "At 
'em!  At  'em!"  They  were  then  all  to  fire  off  at 
once,  first  with  blank  cartridges,  and  afterwards 
with  "ball,"  that  is  to  say,  shot;  but  as,  at  the 
first  volley.  Dr.  Lukow's  white  cow  was  wounded, 
this  shooting  with  "ball"  had  to  be  given  up.  They 
all  said  afterwards  that  the  tailor,  Zachow,  had 
done  it,  but  it  was  never  proved.  At  last,  they 
were  all  beautifully  in  rank  and  file,  and  when 
Captain  Grischow  commanded  "left  wheel,"  out  they 
came  into  the  Brandenburg  road,  and  marched  on 
in  a  splendid  heap  of  confusion;  and  when  they 
were  outside  the  town-gates,  every  one  looked  for  a 
dry  path  for  himself,  and  they  marched  one  behind 
the  other,  like  geese  among  the  barley.  A  halt  was 
made  at  the  Owl  Hill  to  wait  for  their  commander, 
the  Herr  Amtshauptmann.  The  Herr  Amtshaupt- 
mann  was  too  old  to  walk,  and  he  could  not  ride, 
so  he  drove  to  battle;  stately  he  sat  in  his  long 
basket-carriage  with  his  sword  lying  by  his  side. 
When  he  arrived,  he  received  a  "Vivat"  from  his 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  269 

troops;  and  then  he  made  them  a  speech  and  said: 
"My  children!  We  are  not  soldiers,  and  we  shall 
make  plenty  of  blunders,  but  that  will  do  no  harm. 
Whoever  likes  to  laugh,  may  do  so.  But  we  will  do  our 
duty,  and  our  duty  is  to  show  the  French  that  we  are  at 
our  post.  It's  a  pity  that  I  know  nothing  about  the 
art  of  war,  but  I  will  look  out  in  good  time  for  a 
man  who  does  —  Herr  Droz,  come  up  here  by  my 
side,  and  when  the  enemy  comes,  tell  me  what  I  am 
to  do.  I  will  not  forsake  you,  my  children.  And 
now  forward,  for  the  Fatherland!" 

"Hurrah!"  cried  his  people,  and  away  they  went 
against  the  enemy.  The  Pribbnow  peasants  and  the 
labourers  of  Jiirnsdorf  and  Kittendorf  came,  with 
pitchforks  and  such  things,  and  joined  them. 

"Hanning  Heinz,"  said  my  uncle  Herse  to  his 
adjutant,  "these  are  our  Irregulars.  At  times,  these 
sorts  of  troops  are  of  great  use,  —  as  we  have  seen 
in  the  Cossacks;  but  they  easily  bring  the  regular 
troops  into  disorder;  so  keep  yourselves  well  in  a 
mass  together,  and  when  the  attack  begins,  then 
"At  'em!" 

The  cavalry  was  sent  out  to  reconnoitre,  and 
rode  in  front,  and  Inspector  Brasig  and  the  Ivenack 
town  clerk  had  pistols;  these  they  fired  off  every  now 
and  then,  —  probably  to  frighten  the  French;  and 
in  this  way  they  reached  Ankershagen;  —  but  they 


270  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

did  not  meet  the  French.  When  this  was  reported 
to  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann ,  he  said; 

"Children,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  have  done 
enough  for  to-day,  and  if  we  go  back  at  once,  we 
shall  be  home  again  by  daylight.  What  say  you, 
eh?" 

The  idea  was  good.  Captain  Grischow  com- 
manded "Eight  about  face,"  and  they  all  went  home 
except  half  a  company  of  pikes,  and  two  fowling- 
pieces  who  fell  upon  the  Kittendorf  public  house  and 
there  did  wonders. 

As  they  were  marching  back,  Stahl  came  up  to 
the  Amtshauptmann  and  asked:  "By  your  leave, 
Herr  Amtshauptmann,  may  I  lay  my  pike  in  your 
carriage  for  a  little  while?" 

"Certainly." 

And  Deichert  came,  and  Zachow  came,  and  many 
came,  and  at  last  all  came,  with  the  same  request; 
and  by  the  time  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  drove  into 
the  town,  his  innocent  basket-carriage  looked  like 
an  engine  of  war,  like  some  scythe-chariot  out  of 
the  Persian  and  Rom^an  times. 

Rathsherr  Herse  just  let  them  fire  "At  'em" 
three  times  more  in  the  market-place,  and  then  every- 
one went  home  quite  satisfied.  My  uncle  alone  was 
dissatisfied;   "Hanning  Heinz,"   said  he  again  to  his 


IN  THE  YEAR   '13.  271 

adjutant;  "there's  no  good  in  all  this.  Why  does 
not  the  old  Amtshauptmann  let  me  set  fire  to  the 
windmills  first?" 

If  things  went  head-over-heels  in  the  great  world, 
they  did  not  go  differently  at  the  Gielow  Mill.  People 
brought  corn,  and  got  no  flour;  the  Mill  stood  still, 
and  the  corn  was  poured  out  on  to  the  floor.  Itzig 
came  and  received  sack  after  sack,  and  every  time 
that  he  drove  away  from  the  Mill,  the  Miller  said: 
"Heaven  be  praised!  There's  another  thirty  —  or 
forty  —  thalers  paid,"  according  to  the  quantity. 
But,  all  the  time,  he  was  not  cheerful;  he  rather  got 
despondent,  and  it  was  only  after  Rathsherr  Herse 
had  been  with  him,  and  had  given  him  fresh  courage, 
that  he  could  ride  his  high  horse,  and  talk  about  the 
great  Christopher.  When  his  wife  sat  and  cried,  and 
he  felt  Fieka  near  him  with  her  quiet,  calm  face,  he 
would  get  uneasy  again,  and  he  was  obliged  to  talk 
in  a  loud  voice  to  keep  off  fear;  and  when  Fieka, 
as  often  happened,  took  his  hand,  or  fell  upon  his 
neck,  and  said  earnestly,  with  the  tears  in  her  eyes: 
"What  is  it,  father?  Tell  me  what  you  are  doing 
this  for?"  he  would  answer  according  to  the  mood 
he  was  in.  If  it  was  his  rich  mood ,  he  would  kiss 
his  child  and  tell  her  she  had  only  to  wait,  things 
would  come  all  right  for  her;  but  if  he  was  despond- 
ent,  he  would  push  her  away  from  him   and  say, 


272  IN  THE   YEAR  '13. 

coldly  and  harshly,  that  his  a£fairs  were  not  women's 
affairs,  and  he  must  know  best  what  he  had  to  do. 

On  all  sides,  there  was  secret  torment  and  secret 
fear.  However  the  whole  thing  could  not  but  come 
out  at  last,  when  Baker  Witte  insisted  on  having  his 
flour.  He  had  sent  for  it,  he  had  written  for  it,  he 
now  came  for  it  himself,  and  there  was  noise  and 
wrangling-,  and  as  the  Baker  drove  away  he  shouted 
out  "You  thief!"  and  threatened  the  Miller  with  the 
arm  of  the  law. 

Fresh  troubles  came  every  day.  Easter  was  at 
hand;  large  quantities  of  corn  came  from  the  neigh- 
bouring farms  and  villages  to  be  ground  for  the 
feast-day,  the  Miller's  corn  flourished,  but  there  was 
much,  much  weed  with  it.  The  Sheriff's  officer 
came  to  the  Mill  to  inquire  into  the  matter.  The 
Miller  droned  out  unintelligible  stuff  about  his  lease 
and  his  right. 

The  day  before  Easter  Itzig  fetched  the  last 
load  of  corn,  and  the  Miller  came  in  to  dinner  to 
his  wife  and  Fieka,  and  said:  "At  last  we  are  rid  of 
him.     He  has  got  his  money!" 

His  wife  and  Fieka  were  silent,  and  the  Miller 
did  not  pass  a  joyful  Easter;  for,  do  what  he  would, 
no  happy  belief  in  a  sure  future  would  rise  within 
him. 

And    the    next    day    the    Sheriff's   officer   came 


IN  THE   YEAR  '13.  273 

again,  and  ordered  the  Miller  to  appear  the  fol- 
lowing day  before  the  Amtshauptmann.  He  asked 
for  Friedrich,  and  when  he  came,  told  him  he  was 
also  to  appear. 

"If  I  like,"  said  Friedrich,  and  he  turned  on 
his  heel,  for  he  remembered  that  the  Amtshaupt- 
mann had  said  to  him:  "I  will  not  forget  you.'' 

"If  you  do  not  come,"  said  the  officer,  "it  will 
be  at  your  peril." 

"You  gentlemen  always  imagine,"  laughed 
Friedrich,  "that  when  your  plums  are  ripe,  one  of 
us  is  to  pick  them.  However,  I  shall  be  going  to 
Stemhagen  to-morrow  in  any  case,  for  my  time  with 
the  Miller  is  up." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind!"  growled  the  Miller.  "I 
have  hired  you  till  Midsummer." 

The  next  day,  the  Miller  drove  with  Friedrich 
to  Stemhagen.  Neither  spoke  a  word;  when  they 
reached  the  market-place,  Friedrich  wanted  to  turn 
down  to  baker  Witte's. 

"Stop,"  cried  the  Miller;  "I  am  not  going  there, 
I  shall  put  up  at  Guhle's." 

"Then,  Miller,"  said  Friedrich,  and  he  jumped 
down  off  the  waggon,  and  threw  the  reins  to  him, 
"you  can  drive  yourself  there,  I  shall  stay  at  Witte's." 
And  with  these  words  he  went  off. 

In  better  days,   the  Miller  would  not  have  put 

In  the  Year  'IS.  IB 


274  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

up  with  this,  but  would  have  taught  his  man  a 
lesson,  even  though  that  man  were  Friedrich.  But 
now  he  said  nothing.  He  was  no  longer  the  same 
Miller.  He  sighed  heavily,  drove  up  before  Guhle's 
door  without  going  in,  and  went  to  the  Herr  Raths- 
herr's  over  the  way. 

Scarcely  had  the  waggon  left  the  Mill,  when 
Fieka  came  down,  dressed  in  her  best,  to  her  mother, 
who  was  sitting  by  the  stove  crying. 

"Mother,"  she  said,  "do  what  I  can,  I  cannot 
get  rid  of  the  thought  that  everything  depends  on 
to-day,  to-day  will  show  whether  we  are  to  remain 
at  the  Mill  or  not.  Father  has  done  something  and 
what  it  is  .  .  .  ." 

"It's  stupid  of  him  to  have  done  it,"  interrupted 
the  Miller's  wife. 

"And  so  I  want  to  follow  him,"  Fieka  went  on. 
"I  will  ask  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  or  the  Frau 
Amtshauptmann  or  some  one  else  —  I  don't  know 
whom  exactly  yet.  —  God  will  show  me  the  way, 
and  put  the  words  in  my  mouth." 

"Go,  Fieka,"  said  her  mother. 

Fieka  went.  She  could  still  see  the  waggon  in 
the  distance.  She  reached  Stemhagen,  and  went,  as 
usual,  to  Witte's  house:  she  asked  for  the  baker,  he 
was  at  the  Schloss;  she  went  into  the  room,  —  there 
was    Friedrich    sitting    talking    to    a    soldier    who 


IX   THE  YEAR  '13.  275 

had  on  a  red  jacket,  and  had  got  his  back  turned  to 
her. 

Friedrich  jumped  up:  "Dumouriez!  Fieka!  How 
did  you  come  here?" 

The  soldier  also  jumped  up.  Good  heavens! 
What  is  this?  Can  that  be  Heinrich!  —  Yes  it  was. 
He  threw  his  arm  round  her. 

** Fieka,  my  darling  little  Fieka,"  he  cried, 
"don't  you  know  me  again?" 

Alas!  she  knew  him  well  enough.  She  screamed 
out  loud:  "What,  Heinrich?  Heinrich,  you  turned 
soldier?" 

"Well,"  said  Friedrich,  "and  what  should  a 
brave  fellow  turn  now  but  a  soldier?" 

Fieka  paid  no  heed  to  the  question,  she  had 
enough  to  do  with  her  own  thoughts,  and  they 
broke  out  from  her  lips: — "0,  Grod!  and  this,  too, 
is  my  old  father's  fault.  What  can  be  the  matter 
with  him?" 

"He  need  not  reproach  himself  about  me, 
Fieka,"  said  Heinrich.  "Although  at  first  when  I 
wanted  to  go  away,  it  was  all  the  same  to  me  where 
I  went  to,  it  is  different  now.  Now,  for  the  first 
time  I  know  what  I  have  turned  soldier  for,  and 
for  what  cause  we  go  to  battle.  Now,  I  know  what 
it  means  when  comrade  stands  by  comrade,  and  a 
whole  regiment  enters  the  field  with  heart  and  soul 

18* 


276  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

for  the  Fatherland.  You  know  how  I  love  you; 
and  yet  if  you  would  give  me  your  hand  to-day,  I 
could  not  take  it.  I  must  go,  but  I  take  your 
heart  with  me." 

"Spoken  like  a  man!''  cried  Friedrich. 

"You  are  right,  Heinrich,"  said  Fieka.  "Go. 
But,  when  you  come  back,  you  must  not  expect  to 
find  us  here  any  longer.  Misfortunes  are  coming 
over  our  heads,  and  who  knows  how  long  the  Mill 
may  shelter  us." 

"Eh,  what,  Fieka?"  said  Friedrich,  "the  Miller 
has  got  somewhat  into  a  pickle,  he  has  got  up  to 
his  neck  in  water;  but,  for  all  that,  the  waves 
need  not  close  over  his  head.  He  has  still 
got  good  friends  who  can  stretch  out  a  hand  to 
him." 

"Who  can  help  him?"  said  Fieka,  and  sat  down 
and  let  her  hands  fall  in  her  lap.  "Nobody  knows 
what  he  has  got  into  his  head." 

"0,  Heinrich  knows  something  about  it,"  said 
Friedrich.  "He  heard  a  little  bird  sing  this  morn- 
ing. —  Make  him  tell  you  what  it  said,  for  I  must 
now  be  oiff  to  the  Schloss." 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  277 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

How  the  Miller  holds  to  it  that  'what  is  written  is  written';  why  the 
Amtshauptmann  pulls  Fritz  Sahlmann  by  the  ear,  and  my  uncle 
Herse  loses  all  command  over  himself.  How  too  this  story  comes  to 
a  happy  end. 

He  went;  and  Heinrich  and  Fieka  remained 
alone.  —  Up  at  the  Schloss  the  old  Amtshauptmann 
sat  on  his  chair  with  the  white  napkin  round  his 
neck.     He  was  peevish. 

"Neiting,"  he  said,  "the  string  is  cutting  me." 

"Why,  Weber,  how  can  it  cut  you?" 

"It  cuts  me,  Neiting;  and  I'm  not  a  Turkish 
Pasha,  trying  how  it  feels  when  you  strangle  your- 
self with  a  silk  cord." 

"Well,  is  it  right  now?" 

"Hm!  Yes;  —  but  it's  a  very  troublesome 
thing." 

"What  is,  Weber?" 

"About  the  old  Gielow  Miller.  The  old  man 
has  gone  quite  mad;  at  least  I  try  to  think  so, 
though  his  conduct  savours  strongly  of  knavery." 

"What  has  he  done?" 

"Why,   he   has   kept  all  the  corn  which  people 


278  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

have  brought  him  to  grind,  and  he's  said  to  have 
sold  it  afterwards  to  Itzig.  —  What  are  you  looking 
at,  Neiting?" 

"0,  I  just  caught  sight  of  him  coming  up  with 
Eathsherr  Herse." 

"With  Rathsherr  Herse?"  cried  the  old  Herr, 
also  getting  up  and  looking  out  at  the  window. 
"What  does  Rathsherr  Herse  want,  Neiting?" 

"  Why,  he's  talking  with  the  Miller." 

"And  most  busily,  too,  he  is  talking,  Neiting," 
said  the  old  Herr,  and  his  face  looked  bright,  and  a 
merry  smile  spread  over  it.  "Thank  God!  I  must 
acquit  the  Miller  of  all  knavery  now,  it  will  turn 
out  to  be  some  folly,  for  the  Rathsherr  is  mixed 
up  in  it." 

"But  surely  the  Rathsherr  is  a  good  honourable 
man?" 

"He  is,  Neiting,  but  he  plays  pranks  —  sad 
pranks!"  So  saying  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  went 
into  the  justice-room. 

At  the  door  of  the  room  stood  Farmer  Roggen- 
bom,  and  Baker  Witte,  and  Schult  Besserdich,  and  a 
dozen  more,  all  of  whom  had  accused  the  Miller. 
And  now  when  he  came  in  amongst  them  with  the 
Rathsherr,  and  saw  his  best  friends  against  him,  his 
heart  sank  into  his  boots;  and  when  they  all  shrank 
from  him,   and  he  read  his  dishonour  in  their  faces, 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  £79 

his  courage  broke  down;  he  was  obliged  to  hold  by 
the  Herr  Rathsherr's  arm,  and  said  in  a  low  voice: 
"Herr  Rathsherr,  I  feel  very  uncomfortable." 

A  feeling  like  this  is  catching.  My  uncle  Herse 
also  began  to  feel  uncomfortable;  for  the  first  time 
in  the  whole  course  of  the  affair  a  faint  misgiving, 
a  dim  foreboding,  arose  in  him  that  he  had  perhaps 
sat  down  in  a  bed  of  nettles.  Everything  that  he 
had  meant  to  say  for  the  Miller  became  blurred  and 
confused,  and  when  Voss  was  called  into  the  Jus- 
tice-room, and  he  went  with  him,  everything  had 
vanished  except  his  dignified  appearance,  and  that, 
too,  began  to  totter  terribly  when  the  old  Herr  came 
upon  him  with  a  grave:  ''To  what  do  I  owe  this 
honour,  Herr  Rathsherr?" 

My  uncle  Herse  was  very  good  at  answers  —  if 
one  gave  him  time.  He  had  always  to  make  a 
great  round  before  he  came  to  the  point.  This 
question  was  too  direct  for  him,  and  the  old  Herr's 
face  too  stern,  and  he  could  only  stammer  out  some- 
thing about  "Notary  Public"  and  "legal  assistance 
for  the  Miller." 

"Assistance?"  said  the  old  Herr,  and  a  curious 
light  flickered  over  his  face.  "Good,  Herr  Raths- 
herr,  be  pleased  to  seat  yourself  and  listen." 

So  my  uncle  Herse  sat  down,  and  this  was  a 
piece   of  good  luck  for  him;   for  he   could  recover 


280  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

himself  and  think  better  when  sitting.  And  accord- 
ingly he  recovered  himself  and  reflected. 

"Miller  Voss,"  asked  the  old  Herr,  "have  you 
had  corn  to  grind  from  him,  and  him?  What  say 
you,  eh?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann." 

"Wliat  have  you  done  with  it?" 

"I've  sold  it  to  Itzig;  but  the  sacks  are  lying 
at  the  Mill.  I  will  deliver  them  up  to  justice." 

"Indeed!  that  is  very  kind  of  you*,  but  do  you 
also  know  that  you  have  been  doing  very  wrong,  and 
that  it  looks  very  much  like  cheating?" 

"I've  only  done  what  I've  a  right  to  do,  HeiT 
Amtshauptmann,"  said  the  Miller,  and  he  wiped  the 
sweat  of  care  from  his  forehead,  with  the  back  of 
his  hand. 

"Yes,"  said  my  uncle  Herse,  and  he  got  up,  "we 
are " 

"Herr  Rathsherr,"  said  the  Amtshauptmann,  "I 
have  my  own  ways  of  going  on  in  my  justice-room. 
I  beg  you  will  sit  down  and  listen." 

But  why  had  my  uncle  got  up  at  all?  Now  he 
was  out  of  countenance  again  and  must  sit  down 
and  collect  himself  afresh. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  talking  about  your  right. 
Miller  Voss?" 

"Why,  Herr,  you've  told  me  yourself;     'What 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  281 

is  written  is  written,'  and  in  my  new  lease  of  last  year 
it  stands,  that  for  every  bushel  I  grind  I  am  to  have 
a  bushel  in  payment." 

"Where's  your  lease!"  ^ 

"Here,"  answered  the  Miller,  giving  it  to  him. 
TheoldHerr  read  it,  and  shook  his  head:  "Hm!  hm! 
This  is  a  very  strange  thing!"  he  took  up  his  bell 
and  rang:  "Fritz  Sahlmann  is  to  come  down  to  me." 

Fritz  came. 

"Come  here,  Fritz,  —  nearer!" 

Fritz  came  nearer. 

The  Herr  Amtshauptmann  took  him  by  the  ear 
and  led  him  to  the  table  where  the  lease  was  lying 
open. 

"Fritz,  what  have  I  often  told  you?  That  you 
would  do  some  terrible  mischief  one  day  with  your 
flightiness!  And  now  it's  come  to  pass.  You  have 
led  two  old  people  into  follies  that  would  have  cost 
them  dear,  if  I  did  not  know  that  they  were  nothing 
more  than  follies.  Take  your  pen  and  strike  out 
^bushel'  here  and  write  'pint'  above." 

Fritz  did  so.  The  Herr  Amtshauptmann  took 
the  lease  and  gave  it  back  to  the  Miller:  "There,  Miller 
Voss,  it's  all  right  now." 

"But,   Herr  Amtshauptmann "   cried  the 

Miller. 

"I  will  speak  to   your   creditors,"   said  the  old 


282  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

Herr,  "that  they  may  give  you  a  week's  respite; 
but  you  must  get  the  corn  or  the  money  in  that  time, 
else  it  will  go  ill  with  you." 

"But,   Herr  Amtshauptmann "   cried   my 

uncle  Herse,  getting  up.  The  Herr  Amtshauptmann 
looked  at  him.  My  uncle  had  clearly  lost  command 
over  himself. 

"Seat  yourself,  Herr  Kathsherr,  and  listen  tome," 
said  the  old  Herr  very  earnestly.  "You  have  no 
children  and  you  have  got  enough  to  live  upon.  Give 
up  your  Notary  Publicship,  or,  if  you  cannot,  then 
do  not  exercise  it  within  my  district.  No  good 
will  ever  come  of  your  doing  so."  So  saying,  he 
turned  his  back  upon  the  Rathsherr,  rang  his  bell, 
and  said:  "Let  the  Miller's  man,  Friedrich  Schult, 
come  in." 

The  old  Miller  had  gone  towards  the  door  quite 
broken  down  and  humbled.  My  uncle  had  followed  him ; 
and  anyone  could  see  that  all  was  whirring  and  buzzing 
inside  his  head.  At  the  door,  he  stopped  and  stretched 
out  both  arms,  but  said  nothing.  But  now  Friedrich 
came  in  and  pushed  him  a  little  on  one  side  and  out  of 
the  door;  he  threw  one  hasty  glance  at  Friedrich ;  the 
old  beadle,  Ferge,  shut  the  door;  and  that  was  the 
last  look  my  uncle  ever  gave  into  law  matters,  for 
after  that  he  hung  the  Notaryship  on  a  nail. 

"Come  a  little  nearer,  my  son,"  said  the  Herr 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  283 

Amtsliauptmann  to  Friedrich,  "come  a  little  nearer. 
—  It  is  you  who  want  to  marry  my  Hanchen,  is  it 
not?" 

"No,"  said  Friedrich. 

"Eh!"  said  the  old  Herr,  looking  more  sharply 
at  him,  "are  not  you  in  the  Miller's  service  then?" 

"No,"  said  Friedrich,  without  moving. 

"What!  Are  not  you  the  Miller's  man.  Friedrich 
Schult,  whom  I  once  said  I  would  remember?  What 
say  you,  eh?" 

"I  am  Friedrich  Schult,  Herr;  but  I'm  no  longer 
in  the  Miller's  service.  I've  left  him,  and  I  don't 
wish  for  the  girl  any  longer,  for  she  let  me  go.  And 
I'm  not  a  Miller's  man  any  more.  I  enlisted  about 
half  an  hour  ago." 

"Well,  you've  chosen  the  right  thing,  I  think. 
But,  my  son,  I  have  a  rod  in  pickle  for  you.  Was 
it  not  you  who  first  took  the  valise  from  the  chas- 
seur's horse?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  opened  it  and  took  money  out  of  it, 
and  knew  therefore  that  there  was  money  in  it?" 

"Yes,  I  did,"  said  Friedrich  boldly.  "I  don't 
deny  it." 

"Well,  then,  listen  attentively  to  what  I  am 
going  to  say  to  you.  The  money  is  now  ownerless 
property,   for  the  French  have   given  it  up.     But 


284  IN  THE  YEAR  '13 

there  is  a  fellow  whom  they  call  *  Exchequer.'  He's 
a  rapacious  fellow.  He  swallows  everything  he  can 
lay  hold  of,  and  he's  especially  hard  on '  treasure-trove,' 
and  he  has  got  all  this,  so  to  speak,  in  his  jaws.  But 
sometimes  he  has  also  kind  fits,  when  he  sees  a  rare 
piece  of  honesty  and  somebody  brings  it  clearly  before 
his  eyes.  I  have  done  this  last  with  all  my  might, 
and  this  Mr.  Exchequer  has  given  up  his  claim  to  the 
money,  in  your  favour.  And  here  is  the  rod  I  had 
in  pickle  for  you."  And  he  threw  back  a  cloth,  and 
the  Frenchman's  valise  appeared.  "Friedrich  Schult, 
the  valise  and  the  money  are  yours!" 

Friedrich  stood  still  and  looked  at  the  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann  and  at  the  valise  and  then  again  at  the  valise 
and  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  and  at  last  began  to 
scratch  his  head  in  a  determined  way,  behind  the  ears. 

*'Well!"  said  the  Amtshauptmann,  and  he  laid 
his  hand  on  Friedrich's  shoulder.  "What  say  you, 
Friedrich,  eh?" 

"Hm!  Yes,  Herr  Amtshauptmann,  I  thank  you 
very  much,  but  it  doesn't  exactly  suit  me." 

"What!     The  money  does  not  suit  you!" 

"0,  yes,  the  money  suits  me  well  enough,  but 
not  just  now.  The  girl  won't  have  me,  and  I've  en- 
listed, and  I  can't  take  it  with  me." 

"Hm!"  said  the  old  Herr,  and  he  paced  up  and 
down  the  room  with  long  strides,  "this  is  a  very  strange 


IN   TITE  YEAR  '13.  285 

thing!"  At  last  lie  stood  still  in  front  of  Friedricli, 
and  looked  at  liim  with  a  peculiar  look  in  his  eyes: 
''Money  is  very  scarce  just  now,  and  I  know  where 
there  is  a  father  of  a  family  wringing  the  very  skin 
off  his  fingers,  and  his  wife  and  child  sit  in  tears." 

Friedricli  looked  up.  He  looked  into  the  Amts- 
hauptmann's  face,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  a  beam 
of  light  came  from  it  and  fell  warmly  upon  his  heart. 

"Dumouriez!"  he  cried  and  he  snatched  up  the 
valise  and  put  it  under  his  arm.  —  "I  know  what 
to  do  with  it,"  he  said,  "Good-day,  Herr." 

He  was  going.  The  old  Herr  followed  him  to 
the  door  —  "My  son,"  and  he  took  his  hand,  "when 
you  come  back  again  from  the  war  let  me  see  you, 
and  hear  how  things  have  gone  with  you." 

The  Justice-room  was  empty.  The  Herr  Amts 
hauptmann  was  sitting  with  his  wife  in  her  room. 

"Neiting,  when  this  Friedrich,  this  Miller's  man, 
comes  back  again  I  think  I  shall  be  better  pleased 
than  if  a  Princess  were  to  come  and  see  us." 

As  the  Miller  and  my  uncle  Herse  went  down 
the  SchlossHill,  they  did  not  speak  a  word;  but  for 
opposite  reasons:  the  Miller  was  silent  because  he 
was  wrapped  up  in  himself,  my  uncle  because  he 
was  quite  out  of  himself.  At  last  my  uncle  broke 
out:  — 

"And  so  that's  what  they  call  a  court  of  justice! 


286  IN   THE  YEAR  '13. 

That's  what  they  call  a  verdict?  The  rude  old 
fellow  won't  let  a  man  bring  in  a  single  word. 
We'll  go  further,  Miller  Voss;  we'll  go  to  a  higher 
court." 

"I'll  go  no  further,  Herr  Kathsherr,"  said  the 
old  Miller,  feebly,  "I  have  gone  far  enough  already!" 

"Neighbour,"  said  old  Baker  Witte,  who  had 
followed  them  and  had  heard  what  the  Miller  said, 
"don't  let  that  worry  you  too  much,  things  may  get 
better.  And  now  come  home  with  me;  your  Fieka 
is  there." 

"My  Fieka! " 

But  the  Baker  would  not  let  him  say  anything 
more,  and  the  old  Miller  followed  him  into  his  house 
like  a  helpless  child.  Poverty  not  shame  pressed 
him  down. 

My  uncle  Herse  did  not  go  in  with  them.  He 
walked  up  and  down  before  the  door  and  all  sorts 
of  thoughts  came  into  his  head.  My  uncle  had 
always  plenty  of  ideas  and  generally  they  trotted 
about  in  his  brain  like  pretty  little  blue-eyed  chil- 
dren, and  though  they  would  often  run  about  and 
tumble  over  each  other  in  play  at  blind-man's-buff, 
and  do  all  sorts  of  perverse  things,  yet  they  were 
always  dressed  in  their  Sunday  best,  and  nice  and 
neat  for  him  to  look  at;  but  the  thoughts  which 
came  to  him  at  Witte's  door  were  a  parcel  of  ragged 


LN  THE   YEAR  '13.  287 

beggar  children  who  would  not  be  driven  away,  but 
stretched  out  their  hands  as  it  were,  and  cried  with 
one  voice:  "Herr  Rathsherr,  Herr  Rathsherr  Herse, 
help  the  Miller.  You  brought  him  into  this  scrape 
—  now  get  him  out  of  it  again."  —  ''Leave  me, 
leave  me,  for  God's  sake,  leave  me,"  cried  my  uncle. 
"I  will  help  him,  I  will  mortgage  my  house*,  but 
who  will  take  it!  Where  is  the  money  to  come 
from?"  And  the  little  beggar  children  drove  him 
so  hard  into  a  corner,  that  he  was  obliged  to 
take  refuge  inside  Witte's  stable  to  get  out  of  their 
way. 

Heinrich  was  standing  there,  saddling  and  bri- 
dling his  two  horses,  which  were  not  yet  sold,  and, 
just  as  my  uncle  had  found  out  who  it  was  in  the 
red  jacket  and  with  "^^«r"  on  his  upper  lip.  Fried- 
rich  came  in  and  threw  the  valise  into  the  crib  so 
that  it  rang  again. 

"Heinrich,"  cried  he,  "the  first  step  is  always 
the  hardest,   as  the  Devil  said  when  he  began  to 

carry  millstones,  but "  here  he  became  aware 

of  the  presence  of  the  Rathsherr  and  broke  off  — 
''Good  morning,  Herr  Rathsherr;  excuse  my  asking 
you,  but  you  could  do  me  a  great  favour.  You  see, 
the  Miller  hired  me  till  Midsummer,  and,  by  rights, 
I  ought  to  stay,  but  I  terribly  want  to  go*,  so  will 
you  tell  him  that  if  he'll  let  me  go,  I'll  lend  him 


288  IN   THE    YEAR   '13. 

the  Frenchman's  money  till  I  come  back.  For  they 
gave  it  me  to-day  up  at  the  Schloss,  and  it's  lying 
here  in  the  crib." 

Away  were  all  the  little  beggar  boys,  and  back 
came  the  nicely  arrayed  little  children  into  ray 
uncle  Herse's  brain-box,  and  jumped  about  and 
threw  somersets,  and  he  himself  nearly  threw  a 
somerset  over  a  halter  as  he  sprang  towards  Fried- 
rich:  "Friedrich,  you  are  a  —  a  —  you  are  an 
angel." 

"Yes,  a  fine  old  angel,"  said  Friedrich. 

''We'll  put  it  on  paper  at  once,  Friedrich"  cried 
my  uncle. 

"No,  Herr  Eathsherr,"  said  he,  "we  will  not  do 
that,  there  might  be  another  slip  of  the  pen,  and 
then  there  would  be  fresh  misery,  what  is  spoken 
from  mouth  to  mouth  —  that  counts.  Heinrich,"  he 
went  on,  turning  to  the  latter,  "have  you  settled 
your  affairs,  and  everything  with  Fieka?" 

Heinrich  was  standing  behind  one  of  the  horses, 
looking  over  it,  with  both  his  arms  across  the 
saddle;  he  nodded  his  head,  for  he  could  not  speak. 

"Well,  then,  let  us  be  off,"  cried  Friedrich,  and 
he  took  hold  of  the  bridle  of  the  lame  horse. 

Heinrich  snatched  it  from  him,  sprang  into  the 
saddle,    and   threw  him   the  bridle  of  the  beautiful 


IN   THE  YEAR  '13.  289 

brown  gelding:  "The  Lest  one  is  not  good  enougli 
for  you,  comrade/'  he  said. 

"But  the  Miller  and  Fieka,"  cried  my  uncle 
"won't  you  say  good-bye  then  and " 

"It's  all  right,"  cried  Friedrich.  "Good-bye, 
Herr  Ratlisherr."  And  off  they  rode  out  at  the 
Brandenburg  Gate. 

We  children  stood  at  the  gate  and  watched  them. 
"Those  are  no  Frenchmen,"  said  Hans  Bank. 

"They  are  our  people,"  said  Fritz  Risch,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  a  pride  in  ourselves  had  suddenly 
sprung  up. 

"God  grant  they  may  come  back  again!"  said 
old  Father  Richart. 


They  did  come  back  again.  In  a  year  and  a 
day,  and  again  a  year  and  a  day,  a  spring  had 
burst  forth  for  Germany.  Battles  had  been  fought, 
blood  had  flowed  on  hill  and  dale;  but  the  rain  had 
washed  it  away,  and  the  sun  had  dried  it  up  and 
the  earth  had  let  grass  grow  over'  it,  and  the  wounds 
of  the  human  heart  were  bound  up  by  Hope  with  a 
balm  called  "Freedom."  Many  of  the  wounds  broke 
open  afterwards.  It  was  perhaps  not  the  real 
Heaven-sent  balm.  But,  in  this  beautiful  spring- 
time, nobody  was  thinking  of  that  future,  and  in 
In  the  Year  '/J.  19 


290  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

my  little  native- to Avn  the  gardens  and  fields  were 
green  and  blooming,  and  men's  anxious  hearts 
heaved  with  the  breath  of  relief,  for  over  the  world 
lay  peace. 

My  uncle  Herse's  corps  of  sharp  shooters  had 
laid  their  twenty-one  fowling  pieces  on  the  shelf, 
and  he  had  turned  them  into  a  corps  of  musicians, 
and  his  having  taught  them  in  time  of  war  all  to  fire 
ofP  at  once,  came  to  be  of  great  use  now,  for  they 
struck  up  with  their  fiddles  and  flutes,  and  clarion- 
ettes  exactly  together  quite  naturally.  In  the  even- 
ings, they  used  to  serenade  us,  and  I  can  hum  the 
tune  to  this  day,  for  they  always  played  the  same 
piece,  and  my  uncle  told  me  afterwards  that  it  was 
variations  upon  the  beautiful  air:  "Cousin  Michael 
was' here  last  night." 

When  the  battle  of  Leipzig  was  won,  bonfires 
were  lighted  on  the  Owl  Hill  and  the  Windmill 
Hill,  and  the  town  was  lighted  up.  There  was  no 
firing,  it  is  true;  for  we  had  no  cannon,  but  we  had 
as  much  noise  as  if  we  had  had  a  whole  battery,  for 
the  Rathsherr  Herse's  adjutant,  Hanning  Heinz,  and 
old  Metz  hit  upon  a  splendid  idea-,  they  laid  some 
hundred- weights  of  stone  on  a  cart,  and  shot  them 
with  all  their  might  against  gouty  old  Kasper's  gate- 
way, so  that  they  got  a  thunder  as  of  real  cannon, 
and  the  gateway  lay  in  pieces. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13,  291 

And  what  joy  and  delight  it  was,  when  one 
mother  could  tell  another:  "Neighbour,  my  Joe  was 
there  too,  and  he's  written  that  he  got  off  safe." 

Heinrich  had  written,  and  Friedrich  had  sent 
greetings  to  everyone,  and  when  this  was  known  in 
Stemhagen,  it  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth:  "Ay, 
our  old  Friedrich!  Just  think  of  it!  He's  a  brave 
fellow."  Everybody  talked  about  Friedrich,  and  so 
it  happened  that  the  story  gradually  got  about  in 
Stemhagen  that  the  corporal,  Friedrich  Schult,  had 
really  won  the  battle  of  Leipzig:  he  had  told  his 
Colonel,  Warburg,  how  the  thing  ought  to  be  done, 
and  the  Colonel  had  told  it  to  old  Bliicher's  Adjutant, 
and  old  Bliicher's  Adjutant  had  told  it  to  old  Bliicher, 
and  old  Bliicher  had  said  "Friedrich  Schult  is  right." 

But  this  time,  full  of  jubilee,  full  of  doubt,  full 
of  fear,  and  full  of  hope,  had  passed  away,  and  the 
beautiful  spring  which  I  have  before  mentioned  had 
come,  when,  one  day,  a  handsome  coach  drove  up  tp 
the  Schloss.  People  said  there  were  grand  doings 
there,  and  one  day  Fritz  Sahlmann  came  down,  and 
told  us  that  it  would  soon  be  all  over  with  Mamsell 
Westphalen,  for,  if  things  went  on  at  the  present 
rate  for  a  week  longer,  she  would  be  nothing  but 
skin  and  bone;  and  the  guests,  he  said,  were  going 
to  stop  another  week.  The  next  day  he  came 
down  again,  and  told  us  that  the  Herr  Amtshaupt- 

19* 


292  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

mann  had  got  up  as  the  clock  struck  nine,  and  had 
opened  his  window,  and  had  sung  —  had  sung  with 
his  own,  natural  voice!  —  and  the  Frau  Amtshaupt- 
mann  had  stood  behind  him,  and  had  clapped  her 
hands  over  her  head,  and  he,  Fritz  Sahlmann,  was 
to  present  their  compliments  to  my  father  and  my 
mother,  and  would  they  come,  if  possible,  to  dinner. 
The  third  day,  I  was  nicely  dressed  and  sent  up  to 
the  Schloss;  my  father's  and  mother's  compliments 
to  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  and  to  the  Frau  Amts- 
hauptmann  and  the  strange  lady  and  gentlemen,  and 
would  they  come  to  tea  and  supper,  and  Mamsell 
Westphalen  too ;  and  my  mother  duly  impressed  upon 
me  that  I  was  always  to  say  to  the  lady  —  ''Your 
Ladyship." 

When  I  got  there  and  delivered  my  message,  the 
Herr  Amtshauptmann  was  sitting  on  the  sofa,  and, 
by  him,  an  old  gentleman  who  looked  very  grave; 
and  the  Amtshauptmann  said  to  him:  "This,  my 
friend,  is  my  little  godson,  the  Bui'meister's  Fritz. 
What  say  you,  eh?" 

The  strange  gentleman  looked  more  friendly,  and 
I  had  to  "shake  hands  with  him,"  and  then  he 
asked  me  about  this  and  that.  And  while  I  was  still 
standing  talking  to  him,  the  door  opened  and  in  came 
—  the  Herr  Colonel  Von  Toll,  and  on  his  arm  a 
beautiful  young  lady  —  that  was  her  Ladyship. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  293 

I  looked  at  tlie  Colonel,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  seen  him  before.  Now,  people,  when  in 
doubt  do  not  make  the  most  sensible  faces  in  the 
world,  and  it  is  probable  that  mine  looked  rather 
puzzled,  for  they  both  laughed,  and  when  I  had 
stammered  out  my  message  from  my  father  and 
mother,  they  said  they  would  come,  and  the  strange 
lady  patted  me  on  the  head,  and  said  I  had  stubborn 
hair,  I  must  have  a  stubborn  character,  and  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann  said :  "You  are  right  there,  my  friend; 
he  has  •,  and  what  his  hard  head  is  guilty  of,  his  back 
has  to  suffer  for." 

That  evening  was  a  merry  one  at  the  Rathhaus, 
though  not  so  merry  as  the  one  when  my  uncle 
Herse  was  Julius  Caesar;  there  was  no  punch  this 
time,  but  Marie  Wienken  had  to  bring  out  the  Lang- 
kork,  which  was  then  considered  the  best  wine;  for, 
in  those  days  no  one  had  heard  of  Chateau  Margaux 
and  Champagne.  The  men  talked  about  the  late 
war,  and  the  women  about  the  wedding  which  was 
to  take  place  the  next  day  at  the  Gielow  Mill;  and 
when  the  guests  were  going  away,  the  Colonel  turned 
to  my  father  and  said:  "But,  Herr  Burmeister,  every- 
body must  be  at  the  wedding  who  took  part  in  the 
'conspiracy.'" 

My  father  promised.  The  next  day  the  wheels  of 
the   Amtshauptmann' s   scythe  -  chariot  were   greased. 


294  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

and  he  and  his  old  friend,  Renatus  Von  Toll,  set  off 
in  it,  and  went  out  at  the  Malchin  Gate.  —  "There 
they  both  sat  in  the  chaise,  Frau  Meister,  looking  as 
good  and  innocent  as  a  pair  of  new-born  twins," 
said  Mamsell  Westphalen,  afterwards:  "And  in  the 
foreign  glass-coach  her  ladyship  Von  Toll,  and  the 
Frau  Amtshauptmann,  and  the  Frau  Burmeister,  and 
I,  had  the  honour  to  ride,  and  the  Frau  Burmeister 
had  taken  her  boy,  Fritz,  with  her,  and  the  young 
rascal  sat  on  my  knee  the  whole  time,  and  gave  me 
pins  and  needles  in  my  feet,  and  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  corporal  of  Hussars,  Friedrich  Schult,  I  should 
have  fallen  off  the  step  in  getting  out.  That  comes 
from  having  children,  and  I  say  it." 

And  baker  Witte  and  Struwingken,  and  Luth, 
and  Hanchen,  and  Fritz  Sahlmann,  and  Droz  went 
to  the  wedding  in  a  large  hay-cart,  and  at  the  back 
lay  a  heap  of  arms  and  legs  that,  on  inspection, 
proved  to  be  Herr  Droi's  little  French  children.  My 
Father  and  the  Colonel  rode  on  horseback. 

"But  Where's  the  Rathsherr?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"He's  coming,"  said  my  father,  "but  how  and 
when  Heaven  only  knows,  for,  when  he  promised  me 
he  would  come,  he  winked  and  put  on  a  look  of  his 
I  well  know,  and  that  I  call  his  'secret'  look." 

When  the  Herr  Amtshauptmann  arrived,  the  Miller 
stood  at  the  door  with  a  black  velvet  cap  on  his  head. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  295 

and  his  wife  stood  by  his  side  in  a  new  black  dress, 
and  he  bowed  and  she  curtsied,  and  the  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann  said:  *'Well,  Miller  Voss,  how  are  you 
to-day?" 

"Quite  well,  thank  you,  Herr,'*  said  the  Miller, 
letting  the  step  down. 

The  old  Herr  leant  over  to  his  friend  and  said: 
"The  Miller  is  all  right  again;  he  has  grown  wiser, 
and  has  resigned  the  management  of  his  affairs ,  and 
given  it  into  Fieka's  hands." 

Now  came  the  coach.  The  ladies  got  out,  and 
Friedrich  carried  my  mother  into  the  room:  he  had 
often  to  carry  her  afterwards. 

The  hay-cart  pulled  up.  Everybody  jumped  down 
and  entered,  I  amongst  them;  but  the  little  Droi's 
ran  into  the  garden  first,  and  fell  at  once  upon  the 
unripe  gooseberries. 

The  minister  was  in  the  room  waiting  to  perform 
the  marriage  ceremony,  and  close  to  him  stood 
Heinrich  and  Fieka.  How  pretty  Fieka  was!  How 
pretty  a  bride  looks!  The  minister  read  the  service, 
and  his  best  address;  he  knew  three,  each  one  better 
than  the  other,  and  the  price  was  arranged  accord- 
ingly. The  "Crown"  address  was  the  finest  and 
the  dearest,  it  cost  one  thaler  sixteen  groschen;  then 
came  the  "Ivy  Wreath,"  it  cost  one  thaler;  and 
lastly  the  "Periwinkle  Wreath,"  which  was  for  the 


296  IN  THE  YEAR   '13. 

poor,  and  cost  only  eight  grosclien.  To-day  lie  read 
the  "Crown"  address,  for  the  Miller  would  have  it 
so.  "My  Fieka,"  he  had  said,  "wishes  to  have  a 
quiet  wedding  and  she  shall  have  her  way,  but  we 
must  have  everything  of  the  best  that  is  proper  for 
a  wedding."  And  so  it  was.  And  when  the  address 
was  over,  the  beautiful  lady  went  up  to  Fieka,  and 
gave  her  a  kiss,  and  threw  a  gold  chain  round  her 
neck  with  a  locket  hanging  from  it,  and  on  the 
locket  was  engraved  the  day  when  Fieka  had  begged 
the  Colonel  to  set  her  father  free. 

The  Colonel  had  gone  up  to  Heinrich,  and  when 
he  pressed  the  bridegroom's  hand,  his  father's  eyes 
rested  upon  him  so  affectionately  that  the  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann  took  his  old  friend's  hand  and  said:  "Eh, 
my  friend,  what  say  you?"  He  probably  knew  more 
of  what  had  happened  than  we  did. 

The  feast  now  began.  Striiwingken  helped  the 
soup ,  and  Luth  the  roasts  •,  Hanchen  and  the  Miller's 
two  maid-servants  waited.  Scarcely  had  the  Miller 
swallowed  his  first  plate  of  chicken  broth,  when  he 
got  up,  and  made  an  impressive  speech  to  the  com- 
pany, but  looking  all  the  time  only  at  the  Herr 
Amtshauptmann.  "He  had,  he  said,  asked  the  com- 
pany in  a  homely  way  to  a  wedding  without  music; 
his  Fieka  had  wished  it  so,  and  he  hoped  the  ladies 


IH  THE  YEAR  '13.  297 

and  gentlemen  would  not  take  it  amiss ,  but  although 
they  had  not  got  any  music " 

Here  his  speech  was  suddenly  brought  to  an  end 
for  all  at  once  there  burst  forth  outside  "Cousin 
Michael  was  here  last  night,  was  here  last  night, 
was  here  last  night"  —  and  when  the  door  was 
opened,  there  stood  uncle  Herse  with  his  band;  he 
had  got  the  Miller's  walking  stick,  and  was  beat- 
ing time  with  it  on  a  sack  of  flour,  so  that  they  all 
looked  like  a  band  of  angels  fiddling  and  piping 
and  trumpeting  behind  a  beautiful  white  summer ' 
cloud. 

The  Colonel  jumped  up  and  greeted  my  uncle, 
and  made  him  sit  by  his  side,  and  the  Herr  Amts- 
hauptmann  whispered  in  his  friend  Renatus's  ear, 
loud  enough  for  the  whole  table  to  hear:  *' That's 
the  Rathsherr,  of  whom  I  told  you  that  story  about 
the  lease  this  morning;  he's  otherwise  a  good  pleasant 
fellow." 

The  Miller  brought  the  whole  band  into  the 
room,  and  St.  Cecilia  was  put  in  the  corner,  and 
was  relieved  by  chicken  broth;  and  then  Cousin 
Michael  came  again,  and  was  relieved  by  roast  meat, 
and  so  it  went  on  alternately.  And,  when  evening 
came,  my  uncle  Herse  had  got  another  secret.  He 
and  his  Adjutant,  Hanning  Heinz,  worked  and  busied 
themselves  in  the  garden  in  the  dark,   and   at  last 


298  IN  THE  YEAR  '13. 

we  were  all  told  to  come  out  —  a  firework  was  going 
off.  It  might  have  been  very  beautiful  —  but  alas ! 
alas!  —  Something  was  too  weak,  they  must  blow 
at  it;  that  was  too  strong;  it  flew  into  the  air,  and 
it  was  a  mercy  Friedrich  happened  to  be  in  the  barn- 
yard, when  it  began  to  burn,  or  it  might  have  been 
serious. 

But  my  uncle  Herse  was  bent  on  carrying  the 
plan  through ,  and  he  had  got  a  fresh  firework  nearly 
ready,  when  the  Amtshauptmann  went  up  to  him, 
and  said  there  had  been  enough  now,  and  it  had 
been  very  fine,  and  he  thanked  him  very  much  for 
it.  The  next  day  however  the  old  Herr  sent  a  sheriff's 
officer  through  the  whole  district  of  Stemhagen  to 
say  that  whoever  ventured  to  let  off  fireworks  there 
would  be  punished. 


Thus  ended  the  day,  and  thus,  too,  ends  my 
story.  The  day  was  merry,  and  everyone  was 
pleased.     May  my  story  be  equally  fortunate. 


IN  THE  YEAR  '13.  299 


EPILOGUE. 


But  where  are  they  all  now,  all  the  merry  simple- 
hearted  people  who  have  played  in  this  story?  They 
are  all  dead!  All  dead!  They  have  all  said  Fare- 
well; they  sleep  the  long  sleep.  Baker  Witte  was 
the  first,  and  Luth  was  the  last.  —  And  who  have 
remained?  Well,  we  two  boys,  Fritz  Sahlmann  and 
I ,  and  Hanchen  Besserdich.  Hanchen  married  Freier\s 
flaxen-headed  boy,  and  is  now  well  oft*.  She  lives 
at  Gulzow,  in  the  first  house  on  your  left  hand. 
Fritz  Sahlmann  has  grown  a  fine  fellow,  and  we 
have  always  been  very  good  friends,  and,  should  he 
take  it  ill  that  I  have  told  all  these  tales  about 
him,  I  will  hold  out  my  hand  to  him  and  say:  "My 
friend,  what  is  written  is  written.  It  cannot  be  un- 
done now.  But  you  won't  be  angry  with  me  for  it? 
What  say  you,  eh?'' 

FINIS. 


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